


Hide Away {We Could Be Beautiful}

by beinmyheart



Series: Hide Away [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - CEO/EA, Angst, Digg the wise and loveable yoda, F/F, F/M, Felicity has paralysis, Felicity is sweet and strong and adorable, Felicity's POV, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Mentions of Anxiety, Mentions of an car accident, Military Background, No chip, POV Female Character, Poor Oliver is smitten from the start
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2018-11-22 20:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 77,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11387874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beinmyheart/pseuds/beinmyheart
Summary: AU: Ever since the night that put Felicity Smoak in a wheelchair for life, she has hidden herself neatly into a semi lonely bubble of Netflix and romance novels every Friday and Saturday night - something to shield herself with to cover the fear of her heart being hurt.But five years later, Felicity finds herself in the corporate world of Queen Consolidated as the EA to the freshly appointed CEO, Oliver Queen - a former army soldier who has come back to help his family after his father’s death.The man is charming, kind and has a heck lot of common sense. Something that she didn’t think would be sexy. But it is.Her perfectly constructed walls are threatening to crumble and her lonely bubble is bursting. And Felicity's not quite sure if she likes it.





	1. Is This What They Call A Meet Cute?

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is extremely close to my heart and something I wanted to do for ages but only had the guts to do now. Even though, I don’t have paralysis like Felicity has, I’ve been in a chair my entire life so when her wheelchair arc came, it meant the world to me that I could watch my favourite character go through something similar and have that connection with. In this fic, I want to explore more of the physical and emotional hurdles that Felicity could have gone through on a daily basis if her arc was bigger. 
> 
> I hope you like the journey and that I do it justice!
> 
> I can’t promise scheduled updates (as I have work/uni, and I’m a ridiculously slowww typer! LOL) but I’ll try to update every two weeks!
> 
> I have no problems with you guys bugging me about updates as it’ll definitely help to motivate me to write, which I will need lots and LOTS of!
> 
> I wanted to thank Becky & Sim for all their support/cheerleading/editing, Christine for the amazing betaing and for Emily encouraging me and believing that I could do this! <3

 

* * *

 **Monday, 29th April 2013**  

 

“I received another one of my mother’s frantic calls while you were showering this morning,” Felicity tells Sara, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

If Felicity had a penny for every time her mom called her, concerned about her well-being, she’d be _rich._ She’s not talking about the _la de dah_ type of loaded either but the type where she would be off jet-setting the world and sipping on margaritas wherever the sunshine and cute tanned boys took her. She means, like, _rich_ rich _._

 _Give-Mark-Zuckerberg-a-run-for-his-literal-money_ rich.

She could buy all the companies that were surrounding her in the Starling Business District right now.  And still probably have money to start her own tech company and do the cute boys and sunshine jet-setting thing, too. Talk about luxury and _good_ times.

The hustle and bustle of the people heading to work flows on the busy street as she waits for the red hand to change into the green man at the lights. There’s something about this morning's call that irks her a little more than usual. Maybe she got up on the wrong side of the bed, which isn’t really hard to do if your name’s Felicity Smoak and you have a pure hatred of mornings until copious amounts of caffeine is involved, and even then, mornings are tedious. Or, maybe it's the fact that it's her first day at a new job, and her mom's rambling phone call has annoyed her before she can transform into that person who screams, ‘Yay, I’m so blessed to be awake before noon!’ Also, she’s running a little bit late, which is making her on edge, too. Well, late by her standards, anyway.

Rolling in her lips over each other, Felicity tries to find a way to say what’s on her mind _oh so_ casually to her best friend, who’s standing beside her.

Note the keyword: _tries._

Because yeah, Sara’s not having a bit of it. Of course, she wouldn’t. It’s Sara. The girl has a sixth sense for knowing exactly what’s up with her. It’s like she’s owns a ‘Climbing Walls and Calling on Shit: A guide to Felicity Megan Smoak’ manual or something. In fact, she probably wrote it herself within the 4 years of them being BFFs. It would be terribly annoying if Felicity didn’t love her as much as she does. 

“You should cut her some slack. All this change has been hard on her,” Sara says gently but there’s a firmness to it that Felicity recognizes. They’ve been here many times, especially in the last two weeks; the conversation is definitely not new to either of them. She looks over her shoulder to check on Felicity as she tightens the black sash on her karate keikogi before crossing the road when the lights change. She offered to walk Felicity to work today, for, you know, moral support and all that. But it helps that Canary Karate Studio, which Sara owns and runs, is only a hop, skip and a jump away from QC, situated down a tiny alley among all the tall buildings.

“I moved to a new apartment,” Felicity deadpans. Her blonde ponytail swishes in her face as the crisp morning wind increases while she crosses the road, hurrying to catch up to her best friend.

“You moved across the _country_ , Felicity,” Sara retorts, snorting a little and shaking her head in her typical _what-am-I-gonna-do-with-you-Felicity?_ manner. “That would give most parents a heart attack.”

3,045.2 miles. Boston to Starling City. A mere 5 hour, 38 minute flight. That is all it takes; it may look extreme on a map but in reality it’s nothing. Really. Felicity doesn't see what’s the big fuss; all she did was pack up her things and go on a casual plane ride. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. That was two weeks ago and her mom is still carrying on like she moved to Australia or something. Not like she has any such intentions; she wouldn’t move there willingly. Because kangaroos. With their beady eyes and paws that punch. Creepy, shady animals who pretend to be cute.

She doesn’t want to sound like a whiny teenager who hates their mother, because she’s not. Felicity owes everything to her mom, and she’ll be forever grateful for her love and support. Google, there’s nobody else in the world that she wants by her side more. Donna Smoak is one hell of a fighter.

Except, this is ridiculous. All this worry about nothing. She’s a twenty three year old woman. She can take care of herself, and it’s not like she’s doing some wondrous groundbreaking thing. Literally hundreds of thousands, even millions of people do this every day.  Normal human beings trying to find some independence and a fresh start.  And you don’t see their mothers calling every 5 seconds to see if they are still okay since the last 5 seconds they’d called. 

Plus, she thought they’d _all_ agreed that it was time to move on from that night in Boston.

“ _So?_ People do it all the time.” She huffs with a pout, stopping on the sidewalk in frustration. She knows she’s being childish but it’s her life, her choice.

Sara obviously senses the change in the air because she comes to a halt and turns with a perfectly arched eyebrow and Felicity chooses to ignore the slight amused upturn of her lip as she tries to avoid the knowing gaze of her friend. She can’t stop what’s about to be said but she can hide for a few seconds more.

Denial isn't just a river in Egypt, they say.

“Yeah, but you have a little more to _deal_ with,” Sara points out lightly as she bends down and gestures to the sparkly red wheelchair that Felicity sits in. She gives it a pat for good measure before standing up and continuing in the direction of Queen Consolidated.

Felicity smiles at the action before scrunching up her nose. Her friend does have a point. She’s got her there. An incomplete spinal cord injury does _impact_ your life. Even if she doesn't like to admit it. Gah, she finds it so morbid that her damaged spine is called incomplete. Like she really needs the reminder that she didn’t break it completely but only severely damaged it. Stupid doctors and their silly prognoses. 

It’s not all doom and gloom though. Felicity is a glass half full kind of gal after all. The fact she can still feel _something_ in her upper right thigh, only if it’s a barely there tingle, is a bonus. Like when she won the battle against the by-the-book doctor who insisted that a catheter was necessary, when her test results had clearly shown that she was more than capable without one. Coming out on top with her head held high and her dignity intact was definitely a win in her books. 

However, today she didn’t feel like being positive about her mother’s worried thoughts.

“Well, she’s still accusing me of hiding away in my bubble and not being open to new things,” she whines, wheeling herself so she’s coasting alongside Sara.

Also, she _did_ say she’s feeling a bit childish. So she gives her best mopey face and gives her moving wheel a tap, her version of a foot stamp.

Yep, she’s figuratively stamping her foot about this.

Ugh, why is her bubble involved? The bubble hasn’t caused any harm to anyone. Except her social life, maybe. But Felicity likes it like that. It’s allowed her to hide for the past five years. It’s safe and easy. Nothing can surprise her there. Her bubble lets her stay home most weekends and watch Netflix. Or code. Or scroll through her social media and be that stalker friend who knows what everybody’s up to at any given moment. The best part is that she can read until her little nerdy heart’s content. She likes anything from comic books to user manuals. But her guilty pleasure is romance novels; ones about soul mates and deep love, ones that make hearts race and pulses thrum. Whirlwind romances that take over souls. Love that she’ll never get to experience, but she’s okay with that. Romance and sex aren’t for women in wheelchairs. It took her finding out the hard way, but she has come to terms with it now. She’s not secretly crying over one of her novels and wishing that it could be her life.  No, frankly the idea of someone liking or possibly even loving her romantically scares the frack out of her since she’s been in the chair. But there’s something about seeing two people coming together—or reading about it—that brings her joy. She likes seeing people happy. And the bubble makes her happy. She can use it to shield herself from the outside world and cover the fear of being hurt with the illusion of liking her own company.

Sara watches her very graceful and classy adult tantrum, and with the way she’s grinning widely, the karate instructor is barely holding it together. Her shoulders shake even as her lips are pursed. Her blue eyes swirl with sympathy but there’s also a hint of _the-jury’s-still-out-on-that_ swimming around the edges

“What? I've been out with you and Nyssa several times” Felicity argues defensively, but some of the bite in her tone is lost when she bounces over a raised lip in the sidewalk, her voice coming out stunted.

Out of all the third wheels in the world, Felicity has to admit she’s pretty lucky to have the coolest pair to third wheel to. Sara had moved back home two years ago from Boston to open up her lifelong dream of Canary’s, where she hired Nyssa, a badassed Taekwondo state champion who was looking for some extra cash. Like any great romances, one thing led to another and they fell in love. Nyssa had embraced Felicity like a sister, overlooking her circumstances and treating her like royalty. When Sara had worked last weekend, Felicity travelled with Nyssa as her date to an out-of-town tournament. Her best friend always jokes that she’s worried her girlfriend will leave her for the blonde.

“That’s different, Lis. And you know it.” Sara sighs as she circles an arm around Felicity’s shoulders and rubs her arm in comfort as they continue to walk throughout the throng of business people rushing by while on their phones. ”I’m your best friend and you live with me. You’re comfortable with us. All I’m saying is that Netflix and romance novels don’t constitute  plans on a Friday night... every week.”

The tap on her shoulder in jest at her reading romance novels doesn’t make Felicity say a playful retort back like she usually does. “They’re for someone who has no life!”

And given the way her best friend grits her jaw as her hand tightens on Felicity's shoulder, Felicity knows she sounds sadder than she intends to. 

There’s not anything either girl can say to that without getting deep at 8:42 in the morning. And no one wants deep that early, so they stride along together in silence, Sara’s arms still around Felicity’s shoulders with QC looming larger as they move with the busy crowd of suits.

⇆

“At least you’re trying something new today?” Sara suggests.

They’re outside Queen Consolidated. Their necks stretching in sync as they stare up at the impressive building, but each woman is wearing an entirely different look.  Like totally opposite ends of the spectrum.

Felicity is pretty sure that their faces could be used on those ‘How do I feel today?’ cards for kids in doctors’ rooms because Sara’s shocked curiosity is mimicking the emoji with the doubled raised eyebrows and the rounded mouth that is as small as the eyes. Felicity has always thought that emoji was pointless but now yeah, well done Apple™ you’ve finally found a moment that someone could use it.

That being said, her emoji face is a little more generic. The fear that is written on her features could exactly be the scream face or the puking face. Maybe a combination. She bets that emoji would sell like hot cakes. Because who doesn't feel nauseous when they are scared.

Either way, she has more than one emoji face right now.

“Being an EA to CEO that I have no knowledge about,” she says sarcastically before turning her head and making puppy eyes at Sara, before bringing up her hands up under her chin in her best ‘ _pretty-please-I’m-so-cute’_ motion. “Are you sure you don’t want give me any information on The Queens? You’ve been here 2 years already.”

Let’s face it, Felicity’s more interested in the ‘Consolidated’ part than the ‘Queen’ part of the company. So when Robert Queen died in a boating accident 18 months ago, she was more concerned with reading the business updates rather than the tabloids.

She’d just assumed Moira Queen would be on the other side of the computer screen when the ding of the Skype interview call came through last month., However, she was met with the HR Manager, saying she’d be conducting the interview as the CEO was occupied with business matters, which seemed weird at the time but Felicity brushed it off, wanting to make a good first impression.

She never understood Starling’s obsession with keeping up with the Queens. But she’s been a New Englander for so long, so what would she know? She had only learned about the Queen family through a job expo at MIT, when she set her goals on QC as her dream career path.

A roar of laughter comes from her best friend as Sara tips back her head and puts her hand on her chest and gives Felicity a shit-eating grin.

Ugh, this is totally coming back to bite her in the ass. She should’ve known. If only she’d just listened that time when Sara was going on about them when the son, who apparently was in the army, was on the news for one thing or another. Instead, she’d angrily turned off the TV and given a lecture on how celeb gossip is indecent.

“Ha, I offered some of my magazines to you but you told me, ‘Tabloids are the black holes of information. They suck the decent human being part of your soul right out of you,’ ” her equally annoying and loving best friend says in a horrible high pitched voice which sounds nothing like her, okay. And whatever she’s doing with her hands, they are so not quote marks. “So no, I can’t help and corrupt your soul in the process.”

Sara Lance is a spoilsport. A big one at that. Felicity huffs playfully and sticks her tongue out in the direction of the other blonde before taking off towards the entrance, laughing as she goes.

“Fine, I’m sure Moira Queen is an efficient CEO and an excellent boss anyway.”

“Lis?” Sara calls out, her voice high in a singsong melody.

Turning one wheel back and one wheel forward, Felicity pivots her chair around and fear hits her hard at Sara’s face. She knows that glint in her eye and that damn smirk. Because that’s her _I-know-something-that-you-don’t-know_ face. She can basically still hear the singsong melody going through her friend’s head as she silently says what she’s not telling her.

Shit, is it too late to do that google search she was tempted to do?

“Good luck.”

⇆

She takes a centering breath and exhales slowly like Sara has taught her too.

In. _1, 2._ Out. _1, 2, 3, 4._

The familiar exercise immediately calms her, and she puts on a smile before nodding to herself. She totally has this. There’s nothing that Felicity can’t do if she puts her mind to it. Her past has taught her that and she’s also learned that it’s okay to take a moment to get her bearings.

A sound of a horn from the busy roads pulls her out of her thoughts and into the big wide world of Queen Consolidated. She looks up at the tall, modern building; absorbing in the city surrounding it through the blue reflective windows that cover the structure. She pulls her favorite purple wooly coat closer around her and swallows.

Right, let’s do this. And if she’s going to do this with style, she’s definitely gonna have a soundtrack in the background. Flicking through her Spotify, she chooses a poppy, empowering tune and pulls out her earphones from the back pocket of her chair and plugs them in until the sweet sound travels through her ears, making her do a tiny bob of her head to the beat. 

Now she’s ready to conquer the world. Everything feels better with music.

Doing one more check over of the building’s entry, Felicity’s crystal blue eyes follow the path that will lead her to her new beginning. With one final long breath, she can’t help but triple check that her QC ID pass is neatly hanging around her neck, and pat her pocket of her light gray pencil skirt, feeling for her phone. The movement causes the left bud to tumble out, so she places it back into her ear. Starting again, because LOL - sweat beaded forehead emoji face, that’s so typically clumsy of her earphones to do that - her hands comes down to meet the cool metal rims of the wheels of her chair, pushing off to start wheeling herself up the ramp towards the accessible doors.

She smiles when she reaches out to push the button for the door to open. Patiently waiting for the door to open invitingly, she starts to hum along to the song. But somewhere between the chorus and her humming turning into actual singing, apparently the door decides to not be automatic today.

Oh, c’mon! This is the legit bane of her life. Automatic doors failing to do their job. How hard is it to test them every so often? Obviously too hard because she faces this problem way too often.

Groaning under her breath, she stubbornly presses the button harder because the great genius Albert Einstein once said, insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.

The door still isn’t computing. _Grrreat._

Slamming her palm against the stupid wheelchair signed button one last time before realising she’ll have to do it the good ol’ fashioned way, she rolls up and starts to open it manually. The stupid glass door bounces off the rubber of her wheel and she loses her grip on the handle. On the second attempt, Felicity manages to open the door a crack, wedging it between her wheel and the left foot plate so she can let go of the outside handle and push from the inside while moving her chair around it. Despite the sucky situation, she can’t help but stop for a moment to hum the next song as it starts.

Felicity’s gearing herself for the big chorus breakout but is cut short when a guy comes jogging towards her, only slowing when he’s touching the door. Felicity notices that the gray suit he’s wearing is perfectly tailored and fits snug around his biceps, the soft material bunching as he pushes the door open she wheels herself back.

“Hey. Let me get this for you.” He whispers softly, walking through the door to hold it open from the other side, obviously noting that she’s humming slightly. Which is weird, because most people just stare when she’s listening to music because it looks like she’s talking to herself like a crazy person.

Okay, Felicity admits she does that sometimes. But that’s only when she’s coding. She’s not that _crazy._

So she appreciates when Snug Suit Man has common sense. It’s kind of unusual. But it’s good and it makes her smile and want to be overly thankful. Some people can be jerks, either they watch her struggle and walk away or ignore her completely. But the others, who stop and offer help, she’s so grateful for human kindness. Despite the fact she would probably decline the help, those people get a big dose of happiness, like this guy. Felicity prepares to give her best happy sunshiney smile and whisper a thanks back before continuing the to be on her merry, but late, way.

But when she looks up to meet his gaze, her world comes to a complete standstill. Like her world comes off of its freaking axis.

‘Cause she’s staring into the most ridiculously beautiful, clear but intense, bright blue eyes she’s ever seen.

“Whoa…”

⇆

Felicity's having trouble functioning. She couldn't respond even if she wanted to. She was too busy staring into Snug Suit Man’s eyes.

Those eyes. Those _hypnotising_ wild blue eyes.

They seem to have a haunted depth to them but yet they shine brightly. The mixture has her curious but hyperaware of the man before her. It's a sensation she's never felt before and Felicity isn’t sure how it makes her feel.  

Apart from feeling unusual.

Oh _b-t-w_ , she's noticing that his other features are seriously hot too. Scuff is peppered along his squared jaw, and his messy short hair looks like it was made literally for fingers to run through it. Broad shoulders fill out the top half of his suit, and the tiny uptick of his lips are giving her butterflies low in her stomach.

The kind of butterflies that make her feel uneasy.

Blinking slowly and shaking her head to retain some normalcy back, Felicity wheels through the door, turns the chair on itself to face him, and swallows the lump in her throat while preparing herself to speak to the stupidly gorgeous man. Yeah, the butterflies that are swirling around in her stomach are definitely bad.

The door shuts behind him when he enters, making a beeline to where she's sitting. Rushing to pause the music, she tugs on the cord of her earphones, causing the them to fall out of the jack and the phone to tumble out of her pocket and land with a loud thud on the floor of the fairly quiet lobby. Thankfully, no poppy, empowering music plays tinnily through the iPhone’s speakers.

Thank _you_ universe. Felicity 1, Embarrassment via iPhone 0.

Snug Hot Suit Man bends down to retrieve the the offending item and gently passes it over.

“Holy Google, I am so sorry! And thank you,” she starts to say apologetically as she takes the phone out of his hands, but pauses and tilts her head to study him. He's still crouching, his enchanting eyes solely on hers. If common sense is unusual, him kneeling before her is absolutely rare. Something that makes her giddy and nervous at the same time. This tall man is making his large body tiny so that they are on the same eye level. No one ever does this for her. Apart from Sara. And her mom, but even then half the time she forgets. She spends most of her waking time staring up at people. It's shocking that she doesn't have a permanent crick in her neck.

Feeling awkward at having this simple attention on her, Felicity blushes and looks down to where her hands are fiddling with her phone, and that’s when she feels it.

Oh god, one of her famously embarrassing nervous babbles is about to break free. She tries to tame it so it doesn’t unleash on this poor unexpecting man who has already helped her enough, but fails.

“Thank you so much. I’m so sorry, I’m just being extra clumsy today. Not that I can be clumsy in its original sense. Because hello, wheels!” she rushes out in a breath, internally wincing as she can feel herself pointing to her chair, but her brain seems to have a mind of its own because she continues on this absurd line of thought. “Ugh, I’m so late to this boring secretary job for the CEO, too! Well, not _late_ late _._ But I wanted to get here early because I haven't even met the CEO. Like, she wasn’t even at my interview. Who doesn’t pick their own EA? What sort of boss does that? ‘Occupied with business matters.’ What does that even mean? Like is it -”

 A small choking sound that suspiciously sounds like laughter trying to be held back interrupts her long, weird speech and she immediately realises what she’s said. She groans as she puts her head in her hands, shame flooding her veins.

She’s totally going to get fired. She hasn’t even started the work day. Felicity 1, Embarrassment via herself 564690...

“I assure you, you won’t be getting fired anytime soon. And as for the CEO, I’m sure they had their reasons. Don’t take it personally.”

A deep, low voice fills the space between them, making Felicity look up to see Snug Suit Man still before her with a wide grin, eyes dancing with mirth as his head tilts to the side, studying her with a soft look.

Can this day get any worse? Now she’s obviously talking out loud.

Felicity can’t help but notice his smile as it grows from ear to ear when she slumps and groans more pathetically than before. She’s making a fool of herself and this guy only gets prettier. His lopsided, dimpled grin draws her in as a small chuckle escapes him before he extends a hand out to her.

“Oliver,” he tells her fondly as she grips his hand to shake. His hand look so big around hers, his fingers rough with calluses, but yet there’s a smooth warmth to them. It makes her more curious about the guy in front of her, which makes her want to distance herself even more.

“Felicity,” she replies back, slipping her hand back to return it to the brim of the wheel, giving Oliver a shy smile and an awkward wave before nodding towards the elevators. “It’s nice to meet you, Oliver. Thanks again, but I better head up to HR before I’m really late.”

The squeal of her wheels against the shiny tiled floor echoes as she turns to leave, but she doesn’t make it far when Oliver calls out for her.

“Felicity, wait!” The sound of his shoes tapping on the floor is the only warning Felicity has before he’s standing in front of her once again, smiling so broadly that a dimple appears on his right cheek as his eyes shine. “I’ll take you to HR.”

“Oh, that’s alright! I can find it okay, truly,” she says politely, despite that the dimple is giving his beautiful eyes run for their money. He seems to be a genuinely helpful guy, but Felicity can’t seem to shake the feeling that if she accepts his offer, she’ll either embarrass herself more or give in to her curiosity and let this stranger nudge at the gate of her perfectly constructed walls. “And it looked like you were on your way out?”

“Ah. Um, I was,” Oliver mumbles sheepishly at the floor, raising a hand to the back of his neck and giving it a little rub. If she didn’t know better, Felicity would think that Oliver’s nervous or something. Before she can have a moment to work out what the little frown on his face means, he straightens himself and raises his gaze to met hers. With a charming smile and a stare that could pin Felicity in place, he waits a few seconds before continuing, “No, I wasn’t. I was waiting for... someone. Obviously they’re running late.”

There’s no moment for her to refuse again as Oliver is turning on his heel and purposefully striding towards the elevators, looking over his shoulder.

“Are you coming?”

Wow, he’s certainly bossy for a good samaritan. But it’s not pushy in any way. There’s a kindness, even a gentleness to how he says it. It reminds her of how Sara is with her. Her best friend has always tested her limits, pushing her to strive for more. Like when she gives up too easily when she can’t reach the mint chocolate chip ice cream on the top shelf of the freezer, or when she thought she couldn’t do another sit up at physiotherapy rehab after her hospital stay. Something makes her believe that Oliver would be that kind of friend, too. Not that they are friends, or probably ever will be.

“Okay, okay. Hold your horses, mister!” she teases as she wheels beside him and watches him push the up button repeatedly. “Has anyone told you that you’re bossy?”

Huffing out a laugh, he gives her a little shake of the head and there’s a smile in his voice when he glances over briefly. “My sister. Numerous times.”

The moment’s broken when a text chimes through on his phone. He checks it and types back quickly before facing her with a crestfallen look etched on his face before he bends down to her level, stopping himself when his hands immediately go to rest on her knee.

“Look, I’m sorry those accessible doors weren’t working. That’s totally unfair to you. Maybe it’s worth telling HR when you go?”

Warmth hits her heart so suddenly at how genuinely concerned and worried he is about her accessibility that she has to put a hand over it to make sure it doesn’t explode. She’s never seen someone so thoughtful. Honestly, she can’t count how many times she has come across faulty accessible doors and things like that, especially in older buildings. Although she hates it in the moment, it doesn’t bother her that much, it’s just the way things are. Nobody checks these things unless somebody tells them.

“No, it’s fine. You don’t have to apologise, Oliver,” she says matter-of-factly, staring into his intense blues, noticing his narrow brows and his pursed lips. The need to comfort him about something that _affects_ her is overwhelming. He so obviously cares that she can’t help but give him a reassuring smile as she pats his bicep. She holds back a gasp at the well defined muscle she feels under the soft material of his gray suit. “It’s sucky, but it happens all the time. Don’t worry, I have a few tricks up my sleeve to get by. I’ll make sure HR knows, too.”

Nodding once, his frown eases as he stands when the elevator doors ding open.

“Good. I hate the thought of you getting stuck again,” Oliver says softly, voice filled with a hint of something Felicity can't name as she scoots past him into the elevator while he holds the doors open and steps in after her, blindly tapping on the button to take them up the 34th level.

A beat passes as the heaviness in the air settles around them. Felicity tries to stare ahead but fails, sneaking a quick glance over at Oliver who seems unaffected by the atmosphere. It’s only after she looks back at the matte metal doors that he breaks the silence with a light playful lilt in his voice.

“Sooo, if you have such disdain for the secretarial arts, why did you apply to become a ‘boring’ EA?” he teases, turning around so he can casually lean against the side wall and arch an eyebrow in her direction.

Felicity laughs then, not just at the question but how _good_ he looks casually leaning against a damned elevator wall, looking very much like a GQ model. His blue eyes sparkle with boyish mischief as he waits for her reply.

“ _Hey!_ I don’t have any disdain for the secretarial arts! I’ve never said that,” she exclaims, still giggling as she stares at those stupid eyes before readjusting her glasses on her nose, an old nervous tick she perfected years ago. “It’s just not my forte. Actually, my heart’s set on your Applied Sciences program. However, I still have a few more months on my Masters in Computer Science that I do online. Two more classes and then, yay master's degree! I saw this as a stepping stone for next year, ya know?”

She shrugs as the doors ding open and wheels out, only to stop and wait as Oliver steps in line with her.

“I’m sorry that you didn’t get what you wanted but you seem like the type of person who has a plan ready for next year,” Oliver says as he pats the top of her seat to gesture for her to follow him down the long hallway of doors. 

Something occurs to Felicity as they make their way down the wide hallway. Her brows knit in confusion as she takes in a glass door with ‘ACCOUNTING’ displayed in stainless steel letters before looking up at the man beside her.

“Oliver?”

“Hmm?”

“What is it exactly that do you do here?”

Oliver’s lips turn up slightly in a secret smirk as he comes to a halt outside a open door. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that through the doorway is HR, but Felicity, a certified genius, just stares at it blankly. She’s pretty sure that she’s having a brain malfunction right about now because Oliver’s at her level again, but this time he’s much closer than before. His knee is brushing against her wheel and his face is _right_ there, causing Felicity to turn her neck slightly in order to see him. Scents of cologne, musk and something totally male invades her senses, and Felicity bites her bottom lip in reaction as the flipping sensation starts to stir again in her stomach.

Good _lord_ , why does he cause this reaction in her? He’s only being nice like a sane, normal person. But yet there’s something about his thoughtfulness and plain adorableness that has her attracted to him. It’s not on looks alone; there’s also a pull that she can’t explain, which scares the living daylights out of her. Something that she must push away before it can slither through the gate of her walls.

He smiles like he can see the internal battle within herself, and he gently cups her elbow. His thumb stroking the crease once, before pulling away and pointing at the open door. 

“Through there is HR,” he says smoothly, ignoring her question. His intense eyes hold hers as he speaks. “Good luck. I hope you find some fun in your new job. I’ll see you around, Felicity.”

The tone in his voice makes the last statement sound more like a personal promise, and despite her trepidations, Felicity secretly hopes he keeps his promise. 

⇆

After signing her name over to the Fortune 500 Devil, Felicity Smoak is now an official QC employee. All she has to do is meet her boss and they’ll be on their way. Her chair parked neatly in the small sitting area of HR, Felicity puffs out her cheeks before slowly letting it exhale slowly through her lips as she picks at her aqua covered nails, waiting for the CEO to collect her. She doesn't quite know why she’s nervous all of the sudden. Maybe she’s not. It’s probably the thing with Oliver that has her on edge. Even the idea that she’s calling a technical stranger by his first name like she’s known him all her life is definitely unnerving. WTF is happening to her?

A tall figure walks through the doorway, turning heads of the workers in the cubicles. Their faces are like someone who has seen a rare animal in the wild. Or a muggle at Hogwarts. Or Bigfoot in general. Whoever it is does not come to HR a lot. Or ever, going by the high pitched gasp that poor old lady at the printer in the corner is making while clutching her at old lady pearls. And she’s clutching those bad boys pretty hard. Felicity doesn't have time to shift her gaze to where everyone's looking at before she hears a familiar deep voice standing in front of her.

“Told you I'll see you around.”

When she raises her head, she meets the same ridiculously beautiful intense blue eyes that made her world stop earlier that morning.

_Frack._

Oliver is the CEO. Meaning, by her calculations that she’s barely calculating because, wow, Oliver is her boss, that Oliver is a Queen. _Oliver Queen._ Therefore, he’s the son that came back from an army tour not so long after Robert died, and he was plastered all over the news lately. Probably for the promotion of CEO of QC. Which means Sara probably knew this along and--

“I swear to Microsoft, I am going to kill her!”

“Not that it’s any of my business, but who are you going to kill? Because I don’t think that’s in the job description here.”

Felicity eyes widen in shock as she realises that she has openly admitted that she’s going to kill an unknown person out loud. To her boss. That is Oliver. A man who was kind and lovely to her and had a kind of moment with her in the hallway. Who’s now is staring at her weirdly with a confused smile.

OMG, she can’t even get her head around this.

“Sara!”

Of course, she freaking replies. It’s so like her to answer automatically. Because Donna Smoak taught her that it’s rude not to answer when spoken to. And of course, she kind of shouts it like he should know who the hell she’s talking about. This is crazy and she’s flustered and she’s sure poor Pearly over there has snapped her necklace in half from all the commotion.

“Sara?” Oliver casually asks. Like none of this is bothering him in the slightest. Actually he looks like he's enjoying this. His hands are in his pockets and he’s quietly chuckling to himself. Nodding to the exit, he gestures for Felicity to follow him to the elevators.

Not even bothering to answer him because she has her own set of questions that need answers pronto, Felicity trails behind him. Her dainty hands work overtime to push her wheels to keep up with him as she starts her line of questioning.

“Um, so where’s Moria?” she asks awkwardly as they step into the elevator. Once again, Oliver holds the doors for her even when there’s plenty of time for her to zip by.

“ _Moira_ ”--he has the audacity to sound like he’s talking about a mutual friend rather than the CEO of this company, and his mother. Okay, she kind of deserves that. She’s the one who called her that in the first place. But still, he doesn’t have to enjoy this as much as he is--“is focusing on her campaign for Mayor. So you have me now. Is that okay or are you going to kill me, too?”

She did read somewhere in the business newsletter a few months back that Moira Queen was contemplating running for mayor, so she’ll let that one slide. But his stunning, smirky face and his teasing questions? Yeah, she’s going to ignore them _completely_.

“And you knew who I was all this time, didn’t you?” Felicity asks accusingly, her bright eyes narrowing as he laughs and bends down to answer her.

“Kinda,” he says, putting up his hands in mock surrender, eyes sparkling as he explains, “But you were on the roll with that babble, and I didn’t want to be rude and interrupt you. I found it refreshing, actually.”

Refreshing? He found her babble refreshing? Oh Lord, and it’s all coming back to her now. She went on about her boring job and questioning the CEO’s hiring skills. Like she even had the right to: she was literally becoming a employee there. Ugh, she’s so awkward.

And her brain thinks of the worse way to says things.  

“And as for the broken doors,” Oliver adds sheepishly, looking down with a shy look on his face, “I didn’t want to embarrass you by admitting I was waiting for you.”

Her heart legit skips a beat on its own accord. The way his cheeks pinken as he smiles while his eyes dart to her then back to the floor, he’s clearly nervous to tell her. It’s adorable to see. But he’s probably right. She would’ve been embarrassed at the gesture of him single-handedly waiting to help her. Felicity has never been good at being in the spotlight. But the honesty is good. It takes a lot for people to be honest about things like that, she has found. It’s like people treat her as if she’s wrapped in cotton wool and wouldn’t cope with the embarrassment of bringing up the nature of her condition.

She might hate the attention but that doesn’t mean that she’s not stronger than she looks.

She’s about to thank him when the elevators ding open to the Executive Floor and he’s up and  nodding at her before stepping out in a rush. But that doesn’t stop him from being a gentleman with the doors though.

“Well, this is where all the magic happens,” Oliver jokes, gesturing to the smaller area with two main doors and a small meeting room near the elevators. He grins when Felicity gives him a chuckle.

She guesses the desk outside one door is hers and the room is his office. So the other door to her left must be the kitchen. Ooo, she hopes they have a fancy coffee machine. Because she will be definitely not complaining if they do.

The wheels of her red wheelchair squeak as she moves further into the space to inspect her  new work home. Everything is very modern and very white and it’s very, very cool, in Felicity’s opinion. The glass floor-to-ceiling windows show a picturesque view of the city below, and Felicity wonders why it’s not on a postcard.

“I can see why,” she quips, edging closer to the window. “The view is amazing!”

Oliver hums in agreement as he walks past her, but then his demeanor seems to go up a notch into business mode.

“C’mon, I’ll give you the grand tour later. But now, let’s get you settled at your desk.”

Nodding, Felicity drives herself under the desk and wriggles in her seat to get comfortable. She guesses that the CEO needs to get started on CEO things so they can’t chitchat all day. Placing her elbows on the table, her hands itch for the keyboard that’s in front of her. She can’t help it. It’s her own Pavlov's Dog situation. She’s been conditioned to reach out whenever she sees a keyboard. She longs to hear that tap, tap, tap sound of the keys. But she’s realising that the table is at that really awkward height where her hands are higher than her chest. Her elbows are going to do that weird thing where they’ll rub across the table and she be that EA with red blotches on her funny bones.

It’s annoying but it’s doable. She has had worse. Try to do chem experiments when you could rest your chin on the table perfectly. That was a fun class.

“Soooo...” she starts, grasping her hands together and looking up at him where he stands on the other side of the desk.

The sight that greets her makes her stop in her tracks. His blue eyes have turned intense as Oliver surveys her with a frown. He doesn’t look away as he pulls out his phone and dials. Very confused, Felicity looks down to see if there’s leftover Lucky Charms on her pink button down. More than likely, there’s going to be a wet patch with half-dried cereal on her left breast or something. She’s not proud of the statistic, but it happens at least once a week.

But who’s Oliver calling, the Fashion Police?

She sniggers at her own joke, but it dies when she hears him speak. Actually she thinks she sputters dumbfoundedly as her elbow slips off the table and wide eyes shoot up to meet his.

“This is Oliver Queen. Can we please order Miss Smoak a new desk? One that’s a few inches shorter.”

Who even is this man? Felicity hasn’t met someone who is so fierce yet blase about making her feel comfortable and at home within her physical surroundings.

It makes her head spin.

“Whoa…”

She really needs to stop saying that.

⇆

“What?” Oliver asks after hanging up the phone and pocketing it before coming around and sitting on the edge of the desk. The confused look on his face indicates that he thinks what he has just done means absolutely nothing.

“It’s-it’s nothing,” Felicity stutters. “You’re observant, that’s all. Not many people would notice the table height.”

“It’s common sense,” he says matter-of-factly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Wait, when did common sense become swoon-worthy? Is it an actual quality that someone can be attracted to? Because Felicity thinks it’s just became the number one thing she’d look for in a man. If she dated, of course.

The man beside her sighs and checks his watch before turning his torso towards her.

“I have a board meeting in a few minutes. So I thought we’d get all the dull job requirements out of the way.”

Felicity rolls her eyes in response while Oliver smiles cheekily.

“Clearly you’re new to Starling because you didn’t know who I was, the CEO,” he quirks with humour, pointing two thumbs at himself before turning serious. “But I am new to the role so I’m learning as I go. All I ask of you is to take phones calls, manage my calendar, call me out if you think something isn’t right and just be yourself, okay?”

She nods. She can do all of that. Simple enough. Although that last one is pretty weird for a job requirement. But Oliver seems like a guy who doesn’t approve of fakery. Especially if he did a stint in the army. Office politics probably isn’t his type of fun.

“Your turn,” Oliver continues, waiting intently for her to speak.

Oh right. He wants to know about her. This should be interesting. People are curious but yet when they find out, they get this look of regret and pity. Like they didn’t really want to know. It’s not a nice story. But it’s one that she could tell in her sleep.

“So, I have what they call Incomplete spinal cord injury. I was in an accid-”

“No. Not about the wheelchair, Felicity.” He almost sounds offended that she thought he was asking about that. “I was asking about you. Do you have any requirements for me as a boss?”

Oh. That’s something else. People tend to go straight for the hard question. The butterflies in her tummy are back, fluttering harder than before. He’s asking about her.

“Umm...” she thinks out loud, her finger on her chin as she ponders. She shakes her head when the answer comes to her. “No, not really. But I like your honesty so that can stay.”

She smiles at him as he nods like she just told him the most important piece of information.

“Honesty. I can manage that,” he agrees, pushing off the desk and making his way to his office, not before adding with a gorgeous smile that lights up his beautiful eyes, “Well, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship, Felicity Smoak.”

Feeling like her world is about to change completely, Felicity watches Oliver stop at his office door and pivot back around, one hand one the door jamb.

“Oh, and if you want to take at look at the specs on your computer, I’m happy to get whatever you need to help you with tasks and your Masters when you get downtime.”

Having a friendship with Oliver Queen is going to be the easiest and the hardest thing that Felicity’s ever done.


	2. The Beginning of a New Normal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Loves!
> 
> Oh. My. God!
> 
> THANK YOU from the bottom from my heart for ALL your LOVE and SUPPORT!! I’m just overwhelmed by your wonderful reaction. Not even in my wildest dreams that I thought people would enjoy a very personal but fun concept I had for this fic.. I actually cried when I first saw your comments LOL! IT STILL BLOWS MY MIND!!!!
> 
> A HUGE thank you and HUG to the lovely Jen (@LaDemonessa) for the most AMAZING banner you see before you!!
> 
> Actually, all your love made me write faster so you are getting a chapter SUPER early! Sundays will be the new posting day.
> 
> Sadly though, you will have to wait the two weeks (like I’ve mentioned) for the next chapter and the one after that. July is a big time for me with uni assignments and family stuff! 
> 
> I am writing as I go with the plot roughly set in stone. However, if you want to see something/ see something explained in more detail or more/less of something - please kindly let me know!
> 
> One final thing to make clear. As I said, I do NOT have paralysis, I can’t even imagine what people with paralysis go through. So to not offend anyone, I won’t be focusing in detail on Felicity’s injuries. This fic will and only be about Felicity’s emotions and the external physical hurdles she has being in a wheelchair.
> 
> As always, a big thank you my amazing beta Christine.
> 
> Emm xx

* * *

**Thursday, 9th May 2013.**

Coffee threatens to spill over the brim of her mug as she sloppily sets it down on the bench to position her chair into a spot that has better reach. She knows she should take more care, not only of her precious Tardis mug but also with the steaming liquid inside of it. The downside of having no feeling in her legs — other than the obvious, duh! — is that Felicity has no idea whether or not she’s burnt herself on spilled coffee.

The first time she’d done it, she was none the wiser that there was a big red blister on her left thigh. While Felicity didn’t mind it wasn’t attended to sooner, Donna nearly had a heart attack when the wound was only found hours later.

Since then, Felicity has promised to be more careful with hot beverages.

Sorry, Mom. But she doesn’t have time to keep her promise today as she picks up her scorching black coffee and prepares herself to chug it. She’s got a financial report to help finish by the afternoon.

It’s been over a week and a half since she’s started at QC, and she’s enjoying it. She hates to admit that she may be wrong about the secretarial arts. Yes, and while the work’s more on the simpler side, Felicity has the CEO’s schedule working like clockwork. Hence why she can help out on more interesting and fun matters, like financial reports.

Give her anything with numbers, and she’s a very happy woman.

Also, it’s been a week and a half since she made the silent judgement call on being Oliver Queen’s friend. And with an IQ of 170, the likelihood of Felicity being wrong is little to none. So the fact that she thought it would be the easiest and hardest thing — well, it's pretty much true.

The friendship they’ve started to form from that first day feels easy and natural. Felicity assumes it’s the honesty pact they’ve made. She’s stuck to her part of the deal. She has already called Oliver on his shit a few times. It hasn’t been anything bad, just a couple of bad business decisions that he should have not made.

In return, he has been nothing but open and honest with her, even if it’s just about the basics: he loves his baby sister, Thea — who is the _only_ person that can interrupt him anytime at the office; he has a strained relationship with his mother, so can she hold her calls, please; and he has a best friend named Tommy who’s a doctor at Starling General.

Oliver’s even told her the tiniest bit about his time in the Army, building makeshifts hospitals and schools in Iraq. He still wears his dog tags around his neck, only poking out whenever he forgets to tuck them under his shirt in the mornings. Felicity can see the pain behind his bright eyes sometimes. There’s obviously something still haunting him from the past, only coming out when he thinks no one’s looking.

(That’s okay though, because it takes one to know one. Although she has shared a brief summary about what happened to her, Felicity isn’t willing to dive in and blab about her lingering demons either. Not to anyone.)

Oh, and apparently he doesn’t really know how to run a Fortune 500 company.

Which leads her into the hard part of being the Oliver Queen’s friend: his heart.

It’s the kindest. The absolute kindest heart. He’s so genuine. And so, so thoughtful.

So if she has to step up and go outside her job responsibilities, Felicity is more than willing to help her boss run his family’s business.

Whenever he holds a door open or asks if she wants anything down the street when he steps out at lunch, or even when he comes to chat with her, always making himself at the same eye level: It makes her tummy flip.

Like _crazy_.

Of course she knows what those somersaults in her stomach imply, but she ignores them. She has to; it’s the only way she’ll get through without getting hurt. She doesn’t think she can cope if it _happens_ again. And this time, she’s more aware, more resilient. More aloof. No one can get to her heart if she doesn’t show it to the world.

It’s easier this way.

So she denies the help when she can. Says no to the offer of getting lunch, insisting she has her own. Pretending to be busy at lunch to just stay at her desk. 

Alone.

And it doesn’t help that Oliver looks like a freaking Greek god. All muscle under those gorgeous Armani three-piece suits, rippling every time he rolls up his sleeves. His dimple teases her whenever he smiles. Secretly, Felicity tries to make him laugh so she can have a moment or two with that dimple. Allowing herself to admire it for a second before reining herself in.

Not to mention, those wild, beautiful blue eyes. Felicity thinks she could stare into them forever. They’re so intense when they focus on you. It almost makes Felicity uncomfortable sometimes.

But she manages. She’s not going to let some guy — her boss — past her walls, even if he’s kind and so, so lovely. He may be that now, but it doesn’t mean he’s going to stay that way.

Why let people in when all they do is throw you away like a piece of trash later? It’s taken her a long while to believe Sara and Nyssa aren’t going anywhere soon, so she doesn’t need anyone else sneaking past her walls, _thank you_ very much.

So that’s why she’s sitting in the middle of the Executive Kitchen nursing a cup of coffee.

Felicity doesn’t quite know how to hold her mug and wheel herself in a straight line. Circles she can do. Possibly an arch, too. But getting to point A to point B with one hand is a skill set Felicity still hasn't conquered. Either it's play loop to loop or wedge her hot mug between her legs and risk getting unknowingly burnt. Or ruin her favorite purple dress with the cut out on the chest that she decided to wear today. And possibly getting grounded at 23, which is ridiculous because she’s a grown woman and clearly not living with her mother anymore but there’s no doubt that Donna would find a way.

Her only option is to sit here and slurp down her drink quickly before getting back to her desk.

“Fe-li-ci-ty,” Oliver drawls as he rushes into the kitchen with a puzzled look etched on his face, a pencil sticking out behind his ear. The look he’s giving the poor ol’ tablet is in his hand makes Felicity want to snatch it up and hold it protectively. The baby isn’t flying out the 34th floor window anytime soon. Not on her watch. “How do you do your number mumbo jumbo thing again? I swear it only works when you do it!”

She wants to be annoyed at him. She really does. All she wants to do is huff, and grab the tablet from him and tell him it’s not _that_ hard to formulate an equation in an Excel spreadsheet. She’s pretty sure a toddler could do it. But when he’s holding an old school calculator in the other hand, his hair is ruffled like his hand had taken residence there, and his sleeves rolled up while his loosen blue tie is a little wonky, Felicity can only find him adorable as the weird dropping sensation in her pit of her stomach is back.

Ugh. She doesn’t like how this feeling’s becoming a regular occurrence. She swallows it down before the butterflies take flight.

“Give it here, and we’ll go through once more.” Felicity huffs out a chuckle as she sets her half filled mug down before making grabby hands at the tech.

“Thank you. But let’s go back to your desk so I can take notes this time,” Oliver says. He passes the tablet over then picks up Felicity’s mug in one fluid movement, making his way to the door.

Felicity thinks she makes a surprised sound of some sort because Oliver stops short and turns around to face her. She definitely knows disbelief is written all over her face because his own softens.

“Did you really think I haven’t noticed you coming in here each morning and inhaling your coffee in record time because you can’t carry it and wheel at the same time? I may be stupid at business matters, Felicity. But I’m not stupid when it comes to people.”

“I was hoping you thought I was taking quick breaks! Like power naps but only power breaks.”

Oliver sighs as Felicity blushes at her excuse. She thought she had been clever at hiding it; she knows she has ever only taken 5 minutes tops. She had timed herself at home.

“Felicity, I really wish you would ask me when you need a hand…”

“I am — I mean, I’m trying. I’m not very big on asking for help,” she grits out in a soft tone. She hates the fact she has been caught, but she hates putting people out more. It gives her anxiety thinking about how she might bother people if she’s constantly asking for help. However, she means what she’s said, she’s trying to be more open at asking for help.

“I’m beginning to notice, but please next time ask. I’d hate if I knew that you were struggling and you didn’t ask a friend for help.” 

And just like that, all her anxiety and any embarrassment she has been feeling floats away. He called himself her friend. Not a coworker or even her boss. But a friend.

Those pesky butterflies in her stomach are starting to flutter again. They really need to go away. She’s not gonna survive if they keep popping up like this.

“Okay,” she reluctantly agrees, catching up to him as she wheels herself to the door, the tablet balancing on her lap.

“Good. Now can we please go back to this damned report before it kills me?”

⇆

**The next day - Friday, 10th May 2013.**

A pearl of laughter escapes from her bright pink lips. Her gigantic-sized boss hunched over at the end of her tiny Felicity-sized desk looks like a giant sitting at a kid’s tea party. The image of Oliver dressed as a giant and surrounded by little girls in tutus having imaginary tea has her giggling again.

The man in question looks up from the paper he’s signing and raises an amused eyebrow. They’ve been signing and folding ‘Welcome to the company’ letters for new employees this afternoon. Apparently it was a monthly thing that Robert liked to do, despite the ever-growing size of the company. So when Oliver saw the large pile, he had made both of them coffees and insisted that they start at Felicity’s desk.

Oh yes, ever since the other day, Oliver has made it his mission to bring her coffee daily so she won’t get stuck in the kitchen again. Although the lovely gesture has warmed her insides with gratitude, Felicity is still getting used to the idea. She works through it by giving him her best smile and a sweet ’thanks’ every time he brings her one. It’s not so bad because in return she gets one of those gorgeous dimpled smiles back.

“Are you sure you don’t want to do this at your desk?” Felicity asks as she folds and stuffs the letter into an envelope. Her voice is still light from the hilarious images she’s conjured up.

“And drown in all those piles of paperwork? No thanks,” Oliver replies flatly, pointing the pen he’s holding towards the numerous overflowing piles that sits messily on the glass desk.

They sit in silence while they continue to work.

“Here.” Oliver beams, looking very happy with himself while passing another letter over. He reminds Felicity of a proud little boy about to show off his efforts as his wide eyes shine with glee. “This one’s yours.”

Grabbing the letter and reading it, she laughs brightly when she sees his signature. Instead of signing his standard block business signature, this one’s more cursive, with just his first name and a cute smiley face.

“Awww… I love it! I feel special getting a smiley face.” Felicity blushes as she dips her chin down shyly and brushes a fallen curl from her ponytail behind her ear, sneaking another look before putting the letter aside.

“You should. Only people I like get one,” Oliver tells her with a smirk. There’s a playfulness in his tone and it matches the light that bounces around in his eyes, light that draws her own eyes up to meet his.

 _Good grief_. Is she swooning over a drawn smiley face? Oh god, it’s bad enough that she’s starting to see common sense as _sexy_. She doesn’t need to add this to the mix of ‘Felicity’s weird list that she finds attractive now.’

“Thank you.” She bites her lip and _frack,_ it’s getting awkward because she didn’t mean for it to come out so breathlessly. And why is she still staring into his eyes?

Damn those _hypnotising_ blues. 

“You’re welcome.”

His tone matches hers as they have a staring contest until Oliver breaks first. Blinking, he coughs awkwardly and shakes his head before interrupting the quiet moment.

“I’ve got another question.”

Oliver’s referring to the game they started playing on and off earlier in the week when they found themselves with a few minutes to spare between meetings. Someone suggests two things and the other has to pick their favourite between the two.

Felicity kinds of loves it when they play. She nods, giving her hands a rub and pretends to crack her neck in preparation, making Oliver laugh.

“Hit me.”

“Summer vs. winter?”

“Ooo, that’s a toughie. Can I say both? I love being cozy in bed and reading on rainy days but I really, really love going to the beach — well, I should say _loved._ I haven’t been in, like, 5 years?” she ponders out loud as she taps her finger on the side of her jaw.

 _Wow_ , has it really been that long? She smiles sadly.

“As in, since your accident?” Oliver assumes correctly. He wears the same look as he did on that first day when the doors were faulty. Honestly, she’s still not over how this man cares so much about her accessibility. He seems so sad when things block her path, both literally and metaphorically.

“Mmhmm.” She tries for nonchalance as she stuffs another envelope. “Mom tried taking me a few months after I got released from rehab but it was all too hard for us. Sand and wheels don’t generally mix .”

But her efforts in keeping it casual fail. She can hear the anguish in her own voice, and the heaviness in her chest is too hard to ignore. She had been devastated that day when her mom tried to push her through the soft sand, but her wheels only sank further into it as Donna pushed harder. After much effort and help by the lifeguard, the Smoak girls situated themselves on the nearby pier, holding hands and shedding a tear for the independence that Felicity had lost that day as they watched the other teenagers folicked in the water below them.

She had thought she was over it, and she is. Having to learn that some things in her life had to change was a part of the whole process. But occasionally the hurt still lingers, on some days more than others.

“Surely you can use a beach wheelchair?” Oliver tries to argue.

“Of course, but I need to rob a bank first. Not that I would. Although I can technically hack — but that’s _totally_ not the point here. The point is that they cost thousands of dollars.”

Thankful that he overlooks her semi babble, Felicity watches as Oliver’s head tilts and his forehead crinkles as if the cogs in his brain are working overtime to process what he’s just heard.

“That’s unfair. I’m sorry, Felicity. Hopefully you’ll get back there one day.”

She doesn’t have time to respond as the shriek of her desk phone rings loudly though the large space of the office.

Oliver huffs, taking in the caller ID. “Don’t answer that.”

“Oliver, it's your mother. You hardly take her calls as it is. It’s Friday; she’s probably calling to invite you to the family dinners you seem to have, just like she did last week.”

I know, I know. But…”

“You have a strained relationship?” Felicity offers, remembering the little piece of information he gave up during her first week. She always wondered what he meant by that.

Sighing, Oliver wipes a hand over his face, and the furrows in his brow get deeper as he seems to contemplates how to start. Like they have a mind of their own, his hands pick up the pen that lays in front of him and fiddles with it as he speaks in a soft yet serious tone.

“Before the Army, I wasn’t a nice guy, Felicity. I can’t tell you how many times I was in trouble with the law, or how many girls I slept with. I just didn’t care; I did what I wanted. My parents tried to rein me in, but it was no use. I thought I was invincible because I was a Queen. I had the money to buy myself out of things. So when I got caught with drugs in my dorm room — it was the final straw for my parents. It was either get charged with possession and go to jail and get disowned or I could enlist in the Army and still have my family. I couldn’t bear to leave Thea alone, so the Army it was. But ever since I’ve gotten back after dad’s accident, Mom still treats me like the shithead I was. That’s why I took this job, not because I want this life but to prove that I’ve changed.”

When he finishes, he looks a little unsure as his eyes flitter around the room before landing back on her face.

“Oh. Wow. I'm so sorry, Oliver. It’s lame that you feel like you have to prove yourself,” she says softly. Her heart goes out to him. She doesn’t know what to do so she gives him a reassuring smile and puts a gentle hand on his forearm, in hopes that it’s comforting. “Maybe give it time? I’m sure your mom loves you very much. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re a very nice person.”

“Thanks, Felicity,” he breathes, staring at her hand on his arm.

“You’re welcome!” She smiles cheerfully, but she pulls back her hand so fast that it’s almost like she realises touching him might burn her. “Plus, you couldn’t go anyway because you have early drinks with—”

“—with Tommy and the boys from my unit,” Oliver exclaims, looking at his watch before packing his things up in a hurry and heading to the elevator. “Shit. I’m late! Thanks again, Felicity. Have a great weekend!”

“You too,” she calls out just as the doors shut with a ding.

Then there’s just her and the ticking clock for company.

⇆

With her matching Snoopy PJ’s on, Felicity wriggles herself backward until her back hits the arm of the couch and settles the blanket over her limp legs before picking up her Kindle.

Swiping through her choices, Felicity picks an extra romantic novel that includes a very sexy military hero.  She’s definitely looking forward to a quiet Friday in, getting lost in a whirlwind romance that will keep her enthralled until Sara and Nyssa come back from date night

Oh, and her book choice is totally a coincidence. _Nothing_ to do with a former solider she knows.

“There’s Thai in the microwave for you,” Sara calls out from somewhere behind the couch. Felicity guesses the kitchen as the sound of clicking boot heels on tiles echoes in the small space. “And I’ve gotten down a wine glass in case you want a glass of the leftover open bottle that’s in the fridge.”

“The red from dinner the other night?”

“You betcha.”

“Then you’ve read my mind!”

“This is why I’m your best friend, Lis. I know what you want before you even do.”

Felicity gives a faux scoff, watching her friend come stand in front of her and shrug on her leather jacket.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come? We’re going bowling,” Sara asks, flipping her hair out from under her collar.

“Nope. I’m fine here thanks,” Felicity says frankly. She loves how she doesn’t have to pretend with the other blonde. She can say whatever and she knows her best friend won’t judge or get offended.

“Okay. Call us if you need us!” Sara sings out over her shoulder as she makes her way over to the front door.

“Will do. Have funnnn!” 

⇆

She only makes it through a chapter before she’s rudely interrupted by her phone buzzing. The number on the call is an unknown but Felicity shrugs to herself and swipes to answer it with a hesitant voice. “Hello. This is Felicity.”

“Hi, Felicity.” A smooth and soothing voice travels down from the other end. “This is John Diggle from ARGUS Rehab Studio. Is this a good time to speak?”

Shit. She wasn’t expecting this call anytime soon. The waiting list is months for civilians. Nor that she wants this call, either. She only put her name down for her mom’s sake.

John Diggle, an ex-captain in the Army, runs a rehab clinic for soldiers who find themselves with life-altering injuries. He and his wife help these soldiers adjust to her new lives with physical therapy and psychotherapy. Felicity thought it was a pretty cool idea until Donna enthusiastically mentioned that although it was rare, he did take other clients using a waiting list system. And that he’s based in Starling.

Yay for her. _Not._

It’s not like she’s against the idea of physical therapy. She actually still wishes she went. She’s finding that she’s falling more lately because she stopped going before she moved, too busy with organising her relocation.

It’s more the ‘talking about her feelings’ part of the combo she finds unnecessary. It might help others who actually need it. But not her. After the accident, the hospital had her talk to a specialist about her new condition. Felicity didn’t see the point. She quickly adjusted to the fact she wasn’t walking again and made peace with it. However, the annoying old therapist kept bring up things that were so not relevant to the accident. Who cared if people exited her life after? It wasn’t like she needed them anyway. So she stopped going.

It’s safe to say she’s skeptical about counseling this time around, too.

She swallows before she answers. “Oh. Hi. Umm, yes. Yes it’s a good time.”

“Good. Your file came across my desk today, Felicity. I have to say, you have an interesting case. Not only your injuries, but we don’t get to see many young women through our doors.”

“Right,” Felicity drawls, as she has no clue where the man is heading with this.

“If you’re still interested, I think you’d be a good fit at ARGUS. I think I can help with—”

“Physical therapy?”

A warm chuckle echoes in the speaker as John replies, “Yes. Physical therapy is our main focus but we can chat, too. Little or much as you want. You set the pace here, Felicity. There’s no pressure.”

She lets out a sigh of relief out as she nods, even though John can’t see her. A beat passes and it’s like he can tell she’s thinking it over when he speaks again. “There’s an opening on Saturday mornings. You could start next week, if you’d like.”

Holy Google, she’s really considering it. She knows her arms and core are weak from lack of exercise causing her to fall more often than she liked nowadays. Her mom is always telling her to be open to new things so why the heck not? And if he goes all therapist on her, she can always bail again, right?

With a shuddering breath, Felicity takes the leap. “I think I’d like that.”

“Fantastic. I’ve booked you in for next Saturday at 10 am. All you have to is sign some paperwork and we’ll be set to go. Make sure you wear your active wear and tennis shoes. We’re diving in head first. See you then, Felicity.”

And with that, the phone call ends.

Throwing her phone onto her lap, dread fills Felicity as she runs a hand through her blonde curls.

 _Frack._ What has she gotten herself into?

Most importantly, where the _heck_ does she buy tennis shoes in Starling City?


	3. A Little Help From My Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE!!
> 
> Another chapter early!!
> 
> Thank you so much for your awesome support and your comments! I'm really sorry I haven't had the time to sit down and go through each one and reply - I feel so terrible! But please know I cherish each and every one of you and your comments help me to get my ass into gear and write!
> 
> Sadly, I really do mean it when I say that you''ll have to wait two weeks for the next chapter - I'm only half way through Chapter 4 (I started this weekend instead of doing an assignment... oops! ;) )
> 
> I know last chapter set up for us to meet Digg and I thought we were too! BUT my muse is fickle and she decided we needed this 'in between' chapter! So sorry about her - she can't be tamed. Also she brought out some real life experiences and anxieties *nervous laughter* 
> 
> I hope you enjoy anyway!!
> 
> Emm xx 
> 
> Forever grateful for Christine and her kick ass beta skills!

* * *

**Tuesday, 14th May 2013.**

People tend to think they’re aware of their surroundings in public. It’s understandable though; they want to know they’re in control of the space around them. But Felicity knows the truth.

To a certain extent, people really have no idea what’s going on around them at all.

The proof is in how Felicity’s anxiety skyrockets every time she’s in a busy crowd because of how alert she has to be. It only increases tenfold when she has no one to watch her back. It’s not anybody’s fault, it’s just because everybody’s caught up in their own little world: thinking, worrying, hoping about all kinds of things. As it should be. Normal human beings heading to work on a Monday morning. Passing through the Bedford Street Station like second nature. 

Not for Felicity Smoak. Bedford Street Station is like a battlefield and she’s the lone soldier who has to weave, spin and stop her way through the messy, chaotic mob of suits and bikes filling the main foyer to reach the safety of the open doors that will get her out onto the wide, exposed street.

She would probably cry in frustration if she didn’t make a game out of it.

Not to brag, but this girl can guess somebody’s movements before they even make them 99% of the time.

 It takes skill to be that aware. Like _CIA_ spy type of skill.

Felicity has perfected it over the years, knowing if somebody’s going to cut her off or stop right in front her without warning. It’s all about constantly being on alert. There’s no wriggle room for chill in her books.

Maybe she’ll look into the spy business. She’d totally ace it. And she secretly always wanted to be a spy.

Take this guy in front of her, she observes as she slowly wheels herself towards the doors. He’s probably texting the random girl he picked up on Saturday night. He slows as he reads the text, looking up occasionally to make sure he’s heading in the right direction. He speeds up again, only to slow right down as his thumbs come up to type back a flirty response.

That’s when she knows what’s about to happen.

In _3, 2, 1._

_Bingo._

The guy stops suddenly, right there in the middle of the foyer, not bothering to check his surroundings. Felicity huffs, rolling her eyes as she pulls back on her wheels to come to abrupt stop. She swerves around him, and at the last second Texting Dude notices her, giving her an awkward nod in apology.

Forcing a polite smile, Felicity nods in acceptance.

The grand entrance doors mock her as the morning sun reflects on the glass, highlighting that freedom is yards away. Felicity nearly fist pumps. But she should know better; a movement catches the corner of her eye and she stops in time as a business woman runs past, not even bothering to look where she’s going.

 _Ugh_. She’s so close but yet so far…

“Oh, sorry!” the woman yells over her shoulder. 

Felicity slows down at the sight of the young woman running with a coffee in one hand and a half-eaten muffin in the other.

“No worries!” she yells back.

Most people are overly apologetic when they realise they’ve gotten in her way, and Felicity always smiles distractedly, forever focused on the task ahead. She appreciates the sentiment, even though it irks her that they weren’t looking in the first place.

Other times, rude, ignorant people stare like it’s her fault that she nearly ran into them. Like it’s their right to do whatever they please and not think about the others round them. Those times are when Felicity’s anxiety is so high that her stomach hurts and all she wants to do is go home and cry.

The nippy morning air cools Felicity’s heated cheeks when she rolls out onto the wide, busy street in Starling’s business district. She watches the men and women hurriedly bustle along as she pulls to a quiet area to the side and rests for a moment. Taking a huge centring breath, Felicity swipes her clammy palms along her black slacks and adjusts her sky blue blazer. Easing her anxious vibe, she distracts herself by setting a mental reminder to call her mom back soon and possibly find some tennis shoes.

Perhaps she can venture out on her lunch break today.

With one last calming breath and a easy smile on her face, Felicity lowers her hands to the metal of the rims and sets off to work.

⇆

She’s surprised to see Oliver sitting outside on the front steps when she arrives at QC… wearing a leather jacket with his suit instead of the suit jacket.

Oh man, her knees would buckle if they could. The man looks scrumptious with the jet black leather jacket covering a crisp white shirt and a skinny black tie, his intense blue eyes seeming bluer against the darkness.

The whole look screams _bad boy,_ a feature of her favorite novels that gets her every time. Nope. She’s not going to picture the men in her novels as Oliver.

“Oliver, hi. What are you doing here?” Felicity babbles as she pulls up in front of the stairs. The step that Oliver’s sitting on puts them at the same eye level, she realizes as her gaze meets his. “And what’s with the jacket? Did I miss the memo on ‘ _Grease’_ day or something? You’re really nailing the whole bad boy look. Not that I ever picture you as a bad boy. Or will I ever start to—”

Oh, she’s _definitely_ going to start now. Oh my god, what is wrong with her? Do not picture Oliver as one of the bad boys in your novels, Felicity! 

“Felicity,” he says, sounding amused. “I rode my bike in today.”

Well, _frack._ All willpower has gone out the window regarding fantasising about a certain boss now.

“You own a motorcycle?!”

“Yeah.” Oliver nods, pointing in the direction of it. “It’s parked across the street.”

Felicity gulps as her head swings around to take in the large, black, muscled beast of a machine that sits at the curb. A mixture of weird feelings washes over her. A part of her wants to swoon and conjure up all the motorcycle tropes she’s read and shift through them until she can picture one that matches Oliver, hoping he offers to take her for a ride someday. The other part has her stomach dropping in trepidation. It’s not like she hates cars or any sort of transportation now. She doesn’t have a phobia of cars to the point that she can’t ride in them. Because she does when she needs to, she just likes taking the train and buses more. But after her accident she is totally more wary of them. Felicity knows what type of damage cars can do to a person, so she can imagine a motorcycle could be a thousand times worse. She hopes Oliver is being careful; she can’t bear to see _anyone_ to go through what she has.

“Do you want to take a look?” Oliver asks, breaking through her thoughts.

Shaking her head as she makes a move towards the building, she says, “No. No, I’ll admire it from afar, I think.”

“C’mon, we’ve got a full day ahead of us.” Oliver nods, stepping down the stairs to walk beside her as Felicity ascends the ramp to the doors.

⇆

According to her tablet, it's only 11:59am.

According to Felicity, it feels like she has been up for 24 hours. The throbbing in her head beats in rhythm with her pulse as tension in her body still lingers, leftover from this morning's anxiety. She's just watched the department heads battle it out in front of Oliver for two hours over budget cuts and funding grants. She doesn't understand how the CEO can sit there with a polite look on his face. It's like watching little kids fight over toys. Or in a literal sense, grown men and women fight over money they'll never see anyway.

She rubs her temples and stretches her aching back quickly before picking up the tablet on the long conference table.

“Mr Barker seems pretty impressed by your knowledge on our upcoming projects. Maybe we'll book a time for me to take a tour of the department so you can take a proper look around?” Oliver suggests, silently pushing in all the chairs in so she has perfect access to the door.

She hums in agreement before she realises she has no recollection of the name and backtracks with a “Who?”

“Mr Barker. The old guy with the quirky bow-tie? You know, the head of Applied Sciences,” Oliver explains with humor in his voice but a confused furrowing of his brow, eyes honing in on her as he holds the door. 

“Oh right! Yes. That's a great idea,” Felicity says halfheartedly, not even registering the fact that she's stop in the middle of the space between the meeting room and her desk.

‘Hey. Hey,” Oliver says lightly and in an instant he's kneeling before her, cupping her elbow. His eyes wash over her as if he's checking for imaginary injuries. “Are you alright? You seem.. off today.” 

Forcing a smile, Felicity waves him off. ‘I'm fine. Just a little headache, that's all. It'll pass soon enough.”

“Sure? You can go home if you like.”

“No. No. It's all good. Nothing fresh air can't fix!”

He checks her over once more before standing up and nodding. She's relieved that he's taking her word for it. She hates having attention on her, especially when she's not feeling well.

“I'm going to grab a sandwich from the cafe on the corner. You're more than welcome to come with me. We could eat in?”

Aw. Her heart flutters at the sweet offer. Once upon a time she would've accepted his offer in a heartbeat. But now she doesn't think she can take the risk of crossing the line she's drawn for herself.

“That's very sweet, Oliver. Thank you. But I gotta find myself some tennis shoes,” she tells him with a soft grin as she grabs her purse and they make their way over to the elevator.

“Tennis shoes?”

“Yeah, don't even ask. It's a long story.” She huffs as she pushes the button and waits for the door to ding open.

⇆

“I must insist you go to Foot Locker,” Nyssa pleads. Her eloquent accent transmits over the phone line in a soft but firm manner as Felicity adjusts her iPhone between her shoulder and cheek.

“I’m not going to _Foot Locker_!” she retorts, whispering the offending store’s name in a harsh tone. Screwing up her face in disgust, she inspects another bland white tennis shoe before putting it back on the shelf.

She left Oliver and his lunch offer to go to Target in search of these damn shoes for Saturday. She kinda wishes she had stayed back at her desk now, enjoying the silence. This is a total waste of time, and if the return of the thumping in her head says anything, it’s that her headache agrees with her.

If she knew that Target’s shoe section was gonna be filled with boring old tennis shoes that were made for elderly woman in their 70’s, well, she would have definitely saved herself the angst of going out. Like she isn’t already nervous about her first session anyway, without factoring in her reluctance to wear _tennis shoes._

Felicity is definitely more of a colourful high heel kind of gal.

“But the shop assistant can help you to find the right fit.”

“There is no way I’m playing awkward Cinderella to a lanky prince with a lip ring!” Felicity snarks, taking a calming breath as she clumsily grabs the cell out from her cheek and shoulder. “Sorry, I didn’t—I guess Saturday is getting to me more than I thought.”

It’s not the physical therapy. That she can deal with. She’s more than happy to get out of her chair and sweat a little. It’s more the opening up and talking part that worries her. She doesn’t share her emotions; it’s her way to shield herself. If she doesn’t open up, she's not vulnerable.  And she can’t be vulnerable in her current state. Being strong is how she survives.

“That’s okay. It’s perfectly fine to have some nerves. You haven’t work out in a while, and you're taking a leap and starting somewhere new with a new instructor,” Nyssa soothes, the tone so matter of fact and so Nyssa that it makes Felicity smile. “How about I join you for lunch tomorrow and we’ll find some shoes together?”

“Yes please!” Felicity nods like her friend has magic powers and has the ability to see her through the phone. Something clicks in her brain and a small chuckle escapes her. “Oh my god, you just want to see the office before Sara does? And when I say ’see the office’ I mean ‘meet Oliver.’ ”

The couple has been beside themselves since Felicity had come home and said her boss was lovely. Lovely as in, he’s polite, thoughtful and friendly. Not the kind of lovely where Felicity loves how his suits fit him like a glove because it shows every bulging muscle underneath, or how his scrumptious scruff taunts her until she has to stop daydreaming about what would it feel like if she'd stroke her fingertips through it, or how his intense eyes makes her want something that she can’t even name yet. Because that _lovely_ isn’t happening; Felicity doesn’t feel like that about him. Nope, she’s cool and aloof. But of course, her two friends decided to choose the latter lovely.

“Maybe…”

“You two are the worst.”

“We want to meet the man who you, Felicity Megan Smoak — someone who has never commented on a man since I’ve known you — say is _lovely_ ,” Nyssa emphases before a small jingling sound echoes in the speaker. “I must go now, I’ve arrived at the apartment and I’m making you girls dinner.”

Before she can request her favourite curry, the line goes dead. Felicity sighs as she looks at the time and rolls towards the exit, making her way back to her busy work day.

⇆

The elevator doors ding open, and Felicity rolls out to find Oliver waiting at her desk with a caramel latte and one of his famous smiles. He uncrosses his legs and stands up as soon as she's in reach, holding out the cardboard cup.

“Here. I thought you might want this. The caffeine is good for a headache, plus you seem like you need a sugar hit and Thea once said that caramel lattes could fix anything.”

A tingle of gratitude spreads through her body as she bites her lip shyly. She picks up the latte and takes a long sip. Her headache has died down from the fresh air, but it still lingers so she's thankful for the warm liquid. She smiles around the lid, noticing that Oliver is watching her with a kind tip of his lips and bright eyes that have a glint of concern.

“Thank you! I really needed a caffeine hit. And Thea’s a very smart woman.” She hums, taking another sip before feeling that familiar buzz of caffeine hit her veins along with the sugary goodness of the caramel. To be honest, she kind of skipped out on lunch today. By the time she got to Target and back, there was no time to stop at a cafe. “You're my hero!”

The sight of Oliver blushing is really _something._ The way his cheeks pinken as his eyes sparkle when he dips his head makes Felicity want to snap a photo and keep it forever. For science. Not for any other reason at all. Yep. For science.

“It's nothing.”

In a bold move, Felicity passes her coffee back to Oliver and he happily accepts, picking up his own coffee in his other hand while Felicity grabs her tablet of the edge of her desk.

‘Are you sure you're alright, Felicity? You can go home if—”

“Hush, you. I'm feeling much better, thank you, and we've got a bunch of accountants to see. No time to diddle daddle.”

The chuckle from Oliver that slips out when Felicity zips by him makes her smile widely as she leads him to his next meeting.

Oliver Queen has a great laugh.

⇆

It's like her muscles relax as soon as her wheels roll over the threshold of the apartment door. All that concentration and alertness she has to possess in public floats away, replaced with tiredness.

Google, she's so sleepy when she finally stops moving. Is it too early for bed?

She guesses, seeing it's only 6 pm.

Smacking her lips as the smell of a yummy curry hits her nostrils, her hands on her wheels take her further into the open styled kitchen.

“Hey! Your home!” Sara chirps while Nyssa nods her greeting as the couple hover the stove together.

“That I am!” Felicity replies, eyes shining in relief when she places her chin on the top of the bench, watching Nyssa drain the rice.

Her best friend pats Felicity's shoulder on the way past to set the table adjacent to the kitchen. “How was your day, Lis?”

“Good thanks. Good but long. I'm happy to be home. I have a bit of a headache.”

“Oh that sucks. But I think we have something to cheer you up,” Sara says coyly, nodding to her girlfriend who reached over the back of the couch to go get something that was stashed on the seat.

Felicity straightens her back in surprise and lifts an eyebrow questioningly. But Sara just smiles her shit eating, _I-know-something-you-don't-know_ grin _._

When Nyssa returns moments later, the brunette is holding a Nike shoe box.

“After our phone call today,” she starts to explain, placing the box in front of Felicity on the bench, “I wanted to do something that would make you excited for Saturday, so I called Sara and suggested we get you these...”

 She lifts the lid to reveal the coolest, the most awesome tennis shoes that Felicity's ever seen in her life. The tip of the shoe is solid hot pink while the rest of the shoe is streaks of different shades of hot pink with a hint of deep purple that intermingles and flairs out all over.

They're so her. She's pretty sure she’s making the heart eye emoji face right now.

“Good god, you guys! They're AMAZING! I love them so much! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Felicity squeals in delight, picking up a shoe and cradling it to her chest. “But you shouldn't have.”

 “Just think of them as an incentive to show this Diggle guy how much of a badass you are. You're gonna kill this,” Sara tells her as she hugs her and places a kiss to her temple while Nyssa attack hugs her from behind.

 All Felicity can do is nod enthusiastically as tears clump her eyelashes. Sara's right, she is a _bad ass._ She can do this. She's gonna do 30 sit-ups and lift 20 pound weights and love every minute of it…

Okay, maybe 15 sit-ups and lift 5 pound weights. She's not Wonder Woman.

Her heart grows in size at how much faith and belief her friends have in her. She's so lucky to have them. A tear falls over her lashes and runs down her cheek as she realises how much she loves these two ladies. 

Nyssa breaks the happy silence, whispering in Felicity's ear for her just to hear. “Don't think now you have shoes that I'm not coming into the office tomorrow for lunch.”

Felicity's too giddy to care right now. She only tightens her hug on her friends and giggles.

_She’s going to own Saturday._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felicity's shoes:  
> https://store.nike.com/au/en_gb/pd/nikecourt-air-zoom-vapor-flyknit-hc-qs-tennis-shoe/pid-11598598/pgid-12107949


	4. A Saturday Filled With Soldiers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there cool kids!
> 
> You're awesome! I love EVERY kudo and comment you send my way! They literally make my day better! I promise I'm making my way through every comment and replying!
> 
> Sooooo... DIGGS HERE! I'm excited for you to meet him and I hope you enjoy what he brings to the table in this fic!
> 
> WARNING: A mini anxiety attack and talks about anxiety in this chapter.
> 
> Thanks to the marvellous Christine and her magical beta skills! 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Emm xx

* * *

**Saturday, 18th May 2013.**

“Looking good, sunshine!” Sara assures with a wink before bending down to affectionately adjust Felicity's crooked foot on her footplate.

She’s been eyeing that foot ever since they’re got here. No matter how she rearranged it herself, it seem to taunt her by not sitting right. Maybe it's sitting perfect and Sara’s just humouring her to keep the unsettling nerves at bay. Her best friend always could read her like an open book.

With a final inspection of her awesome, shiny new shoes and her simple black yoga pants and loose pink t-shirt, she smiles nervously as her hands play with the rims of her wheels.

“Thanks.”

Today has come all too quickly. Since Monday, the days have steamrolled themselves into one, making Felicity feel like she had no chance to mentally prepare herself for the big day. Even Nyssa’s dreaded visit to the office went in a blink of an eye. Thank Neptune that Oliver was out at an impromptu business lunch. Having Nyssa drill the security at the front desk like some sort of assassin ninja ready to pounce was bad enough.

Perhaps having no time to dwell on it is a good thing. It means she hasn't had the chance to chicken out and cancel. Although, it's a little suspicious that both girls insisted on coming to wave her off. She's totally on to their sneaky plot to make her go inside and not ditch to… you know, go get a donut or something instead.

As she looks up to the ARGUS sign hanging from the front facade of what it seems to be a old warehouse, Felicity swallows a lump in her suddenly dry throat and rethinks her escape plan. If she could just make a distraction and swing a right past Nyssa, she could definitely make it to a Jitters close by and order milliseconds before her friends caught up.

“Are you sure you don’t want one of us to come back and get you? The studio isn’t too far away,” Nyssa asks kindly, her dark hair floating in the light spring breeze.

Felicity shakes her head and bites her lip in ponder. “No, it’s fine. I’ll go home and start on my coursework.”

A roar of a motorcycle rips through the space of the parking lot and breaks the lull in the conversation, making the three ladies turn their heads in the direction of the sound.

Nyssa makes a noise of annoyance, Sara hums in appreciation for the bike. And Felicity?

She's casually trying not to choke on air. It's not going well either. If she doesn't get air into her lungs and stop sputtering like Donald Duck right now, she's gonna die a horrific, embarrassing death.

In front of Oliver Queen.

Who made her choke on air.

She knew that bike from the moment she saw it but her stupid brain was in la la land thinking about chocolate glazed doughnuts through a fog of nervousness. She knew the man, too. Except her brain also didn't register him without the stunning designer suits.

 _Frack_. Frack her nothing for good brain. And _frack_ today.

Now, as she watches his large form gracefully slide off the bike and hang the helmet of the handle bars before striding towards them — her heart skips double time while her cheeks flush despite the coolness in the air. She can't even explain the warmth that's flooding her body from the very bottom of her tummy.

He looks like a bad boy with a heart of gold personified.

And she would know: she only read a dozen or so novels involving them.

The leather jacket he’d wore several times since Monday sits nicely around his frame as a dark green t-shirt hugs his torso tightly, and his jeans fit snugly, complementing the slightly scuffed sandy brown boots he's sporting. Not to mention the glorious smile that sits on his lips.

Felicity can’t speak about the dog tags that hanging freely around his neck, shining in the morning sun. Those, well, they do things to her that she wishes to not to notice.

She wants to weep. She's isn't sure whether it's for the sheer sexiness of Oliver's look or in hysterics that the situation she's in is actually happening.

She thinks it’s the latter, because as he walks walks closer, the warmth in her stomach starts to turn into dread.

“Is that—” Nyssa questions with a glint in her eye, only to be cut off by an agitated Felicity.

“Mmhmm.”

“Why is he—” it's Sara's turn to question with a very inquisitive tone in her voice.

“I don’t know,” Felicity bites out, unconsciously pulling at her top and flinging her free curls behind her ears. “But we’re about to find out.”

“Felicity!” Oliver greets her with a wide grin as he bends down to her level. Soulful blue eyes burn into hers. ”What a nice surprise.”

It's like her brain transmission signals have failed. Because all she's doing is gaping and staring. She's gaping and staring like a fish lost at sea.

Geez, she's turning into the real life version of Nemo.

“Are you here to see Digg?” Oliver continues to ask. Not even flinching that Felicity the Fish has entered the building or parking lot or wherever they are as she simply nods at the nickname that she guesses is short for John Diggle.

Her best friend must know that she's in some sort of trance and takes pity on her as she bends down, placing a soothing hand on Felicity's forearm.

“Hi. I’m Sara Lance,” she introduces herself, extending one hand out to Oliver while she tilts her head up. “And this is my girlfriend, Nyssa. We're friends of Felicity.”

“Oliver,” he smoothly replies, shaking the other blonde's hand and smiling at Nyssa. “Oliver Queen. It’s so nice to meet you and put faces to the names. Felicity speaks about you all the time at work.”

Of course, Nyssa doesn't do pleasantries and jumps in head first like the ninja she is. Another choking sound comes from Felicity's throat when Nyssa speaks with a wicked smirk. Or possibly gills now. Because she's still not speaking. What the heck is wrong with her tongue?

“Felicity says you're _lovely._ ”

“… to work with,” Sara adds with a subtle elbow to her girlfriend’s shin and a forced, innocent smile.

Okay, Felicity really wants to weep now. Her anxiety was high anyway but currently it's through the roof. All of this is overwhelming and she hasn't even made it inside yet. Her breathing is a tad choppy and her face feels like it's on fire. Her heart feels like it’s taken off in a race car and left her behind. And her incapable tongue is giving her hives.

 _Breathe_ , Felicity. 

In _1, 2_. Out _1, 2, 3, 4._

_In._

_Out._

“Likewise. Having Felicity there to help is lifesaving and a pleasure!” Oliver beams but the lightness doesn't reach his eyes as he settles a hand on her wrist and moves his thumb along the curve.

Suddenly Felicity feels a light touch on her pulse underneath her wrist as she keeps subtly doing her breathing exercises. Sara continues to carry the conversation while she soothes Felicity's other arm.

Oh my _lord_. Oliver is checking her pulse. Somehow he picked up that she's having a mini anxiety attack. She knew Sara noticed right away hence why she went into Chatty Cathy mode, giving Felicity the time to pull herself together.

But Oliver? He doesn't know she has them but still noticed and went into his own protective mode of monitoring the situation while continuing on like nothing's happening. Must be the soldier in him.

Instead of feeling embarrassed or humiliated, Felicity's touched by the gesture, feeling calmer at the thought of somebody else looking out for her when these things sneak up on her. She gives him a weak smile and it only grows when he winks in return.

“You’re wondering why I’m here,” Oliver says, his eyes not letting hers wonder as he makes her focus on him. She knows what he's doing, it's a technique that the doctors taught her mom to help with Felicity's anxiety attacks. It never worked until now. Her brain always ran in circles through the fog. But as she stares into these intense but kind eyes, all she can do is listen to his words. “Digg was the captain of my unit. I find it inspiring what the Diggles do here so I volunteer whenever I can.”

“Okay.” She speaks for the first time since Oliver arrived. It's not really an appropriate answer to his explanation. But it's something. Maybe in her own way her brain is telling him she's okay.

Obviously he takes it as a signal because he's standing up and patting the back of her wheelchair.

“How about we go inside and I’ll introduce you to the team.”

Smiling and hugging her, Sara stands up too before she and Nyssa wave goodbye.

“Good luck, Lis! Call me afterwards,” she calls out, giving two thumbs up as Felicity turns and heads towards the ARGUS entrance with Oliver tagging behind.

⇆

Felicity doesn’t show it but she’s surprised as she and Oliver step into the old warehouse-slash-clinic. Instead of the harsh tones of steel and black like she’s expecting, light timber and shades of mild green fills the small foyer space. The lowered wooden reception desk sits neatly in the corner with the ARGUS logo splashed across the middle of it. The green wall behind it stretches out until a door-sized archway shows another open space. The same mild green is visible from the other room, and a glimpse of equipment lets Felicity know that's probably where she's going to be sweating and panting out her 15 sit-ups.

She’s probably going to die a slow and painful death in there but at least she has her brand spanking new tennis shoes to show off while doing it.

Either way, there’s an instant sense of homeliness and safety that washes over her like a warm waterfall, killing any leftover anxious vibes she has. She’s so grateful that her instincts are telling her she’s going to love coming here.

“Digg and Lyla must be with clients,” Oliver suggests, looking over at the empty desk and bending down. Sensing that he’s about to become serious, Felicity focuses on the thin line of his lips. “Look, about before—”

Before he can finish what he's about to say, they are interrupted by a tall, well-built man in blue scrubs with messily cropped black hair and cheeky blue eyes, looking very flustered, checking his watch as he comes through the archway.

Taking in the image of the man in front of her and calculating with the data she's stored in her brain, it’s safe to say that Felicity can identify without a doubt the man is Tommy Merlyn. He matches too many stories that Oliver has told her.

“Ollie! Finally. Digg’s gone out to pick something up and Lyla is with a patient and there’s been a mix up—” he whines with an exasperated look on his face, staring daggers at his best friend. In return, Oliver raises an eyebrow with a neutral look etch on his face, tilting his head to signal at Felicity.

“Oh, hello! You must be Felicity. Ollie's new Girl Friday. I’m Tommy—” he greets her as the disgruntled look on his face morphs into a charming smile.

Back up a moment now! Has Oliver talked about her? Surely _not_. What could he possibly say about his mere EA? It’s not like they’re friends, well, not _outside-of-work_ friends. Maybe she’s terrible at her job. Oh god, what if she’s terrible at her job and Oliver asked for advice on how to fire her?

 _Two can play this game_ , she thinks as she tries not to fret about what Oliver has or hasn’t said about her.

“Tommy Merlyn, the best friend,” she cuts in with a tip of her lips, giving an awkward wave.

“Aww see, you do miss me when I’m not around,” Tommy jokes as he makes faux heart eyes at Oliver before turning back to Felicity and winking. “Don’t worry, he talks about you all the time too.”

Oh _shit_ , he really does talk about her. Felicity tips her head in hopes that it hides the anxious blush that’s coming on.

Okay, if he was gonna fire her, he would have done it already. Right? So it means that he’s speaking about her on friendly terms - _frack_ , she doesn’t really want to think about what that implies so she blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

“So, do you volunteer here like Oliver does?”

Great question, Smoak. Because that’s not obvious or anything.

“Ollie doesn't vol—” Tommy tries to argue but a cough from Oliver cuts him off, making them both turn to him. It’s weird though, Oliver seems to look angry, shy and embarrassed all the same time. Felicity can’t process what’s going on, but Tommy seems to because he’s blinking and speaking rapidly. Huh, must be a guy code thing.

“I mean, yes I do volunteer with Ollie when I’m not on shift. I check up on the patient's injuries, make sure they don’t get bed sores and that their medication isn’t giving them troubles. However, I am supposed to be starting my shift in 5 minutes and I’m running late. It was nice to meet you, Felicity.”

And in a flash, Tommy is out the door—leaving a very confused Felicity shaking her head and a weird Oliver who’s staring at the door like his whole world nearly collapsed. For a second, Felicity thinks this is a setup. That Oliver got her in here and Tommy nearly let it out. But the thought is fleeting when Oliver turns to her and smiles sadly.

“Hey. I’m sorry about all this,” he says softly, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I know this is very overwhelming in the first place. Then I show up unannounced and then Tommy. I should have told you about my ties here—I didn’t—I’m sorry if I made you feel freaked out.”

Her hearts skips a beat, in a good way this time, as she smiles brightly back at him. Her eyes soften as she watches him struggle with whatever is in his head. This is all about not telling her he volunteered here. He doesn’t need to be all mopey about it. Although it’s quite cute that he’s worried about holding something back from her. It’s not like he lied about something big.

“No, no. I was just shocked, that’s all. But it’s nice to see a friendly face. I’m glad that you’re here,” she assures him, her hand soothing the forearm of hand that’s still on her shoulder.

“Me too.” 

⇆

After lingering for longer than they should, Oliver stands up and offers her a tour while they wait for John Diggle to arrive.

Felicity happily accepts as she follows him through the archway and gasps. The room is bigger than she thought. The green walls are covered in inspirational quotes, with one wall covered in a floor to ceiling mirror with a bar attached to it, and another bar parallel to it—perfect for walking, it seems.

Not that Felicity will ever get the chance to use it but she still hums in appreciation.

The adjacent wall has three doors and Felicity wonders what they’re for before the space between the two walls catches her eye.

The floor is littered with modern equipment, well spaced out with enough room for wheelchairs to move around them. Felicity couldn’t even name most of them, all different sizes and shapes and she hasn’t seen most of them before. But she spots a rowing machine, so that’s something. However, she’s willing to give everything a shot.

Oh, but she doesn’t know about that contraption that looks like a torture table. Maybe she’ll try that one last.

Oliver wanders the room before coming to stand in the middle and smile his dimpled smile as he points to the wall with all the doors, noticing her eyes have tracked back there in curiousity.

“The first door is Lyla’s.  She’s formal with her sessions.” He explains, “Her clients workout out here before going into her room to talk. The second door is the medical room. And the third is Digg’s, but he rarely uses it.”

“Oh. Why?”

Childish excitement crawls up her throat, and she has to hold back a giddy smile as Felicity prays that John Diggle doesn’t really incorporate the psychotherapy into his sessions. 

A girl can hope.

“Digg’s sessions are more chill,” Oliver answers, coming to bend down in front of her. “You’ll work out, you’ll chat as you go but generally you’ll have a good time. He’s laid back like that. Don’t get me wrong, he’ll make you work hard but I think you two are going to get along. John’s a good man. You’re in great hands here, Felicity.”

All of a sudden, the most humongous man that Felicity’s ever seen comes through the archway. Seriously, his arms are tree trunks and the box he’s holding looks like it’d be crushed in a million pieces if he choose to merely squeeze it. But Felicity’s sensing he’s more of a gentle giant than anything, as his smile is warm and kind as he speaks to them. 

“You better not be spreading rumors about me, man.”

⇆

“Hey. Welcome to ARGUS,” the giant man says with his good-hearted smile despite throwing the box of what seems to be dumbbells into Oliver’s unexpecting arms before bending down to shake Felicity’s hand. ‘I'm John Diggle. But you can call me Digg.”

“Felicity. Felicity Smoak. But you probably already knew that because, duh, the wheelchair and I’m a lady and it’s 10 am so you would know from your appointment list. Oh, I'm not a _lady_ lady _._ I’m not from Britain or own a manor or lurk in the shadows like Lady Edith on Downton Abbey. Boy, isn’t she annoying? I just mean I have lady— Oh my god,” she blurts, her face burning in embarrassment as she hides it in her hands. “I’m going to stop so we can meet properly in 3, 2, 1...”

Why does she insist on being the most awkward person… in front of her new therapist? He’s probably making mental notes and already admitting her to the nearest looney bin. What ever happened to that sweet, polite voice she uses when she’s trying to hide the fact that she’s anxious? That would be mighty useful right now.

A warm, soft chuckle enters the space as Felicity sees John Diggle smile and shake his head kindly.

“Wow girl, that’s quite the babble you got there. Impressive.”

“Isn’t it?” Oliver sighs with a grin on his face as Felicity blushes even more, peeking through her fingers to watch the men stare at her.

 _Wait,_ did Oliver just sigh wistfully? She’s pretty sure there was a hint of wist in there. Okaaayyyy, that’s odd.

Diggle must think so, too, because he’s looking up at Oliver with an amused, arched eyebrow. “Oliver, man. Don’t you, I don’t know, have things to do?”

Blinking like he’s waking up from a trance, Oliver tears his gaze from her to his boss and smiles sheepishly.

“Right. Yes I do.” He nods as he looks from Felicity to the archway and back again with a weak grin. “Have a great session, guys.”

As soon as Oliver disappears with the box through the archway, Diggle speaks with a soothing tone.

“Let’s start again, shall we?” he suggests, his chocolate eyes softening as Felicity takes a big steadying breath. “Hi, Felicity.”

“Hi, Digg.”

“I want you know that it’s okay to be nervous. It’s a big thing for you to come here, and most of our clients are petrified when they first start. So don’t feel like you have to put on a brave face. Just be yourself, Felicity. I also want you to know that whatever happens in our sessions stays here... I won’t tell anyone about your hatred for Lady Edith,” Digg tells her seriously but there’s a dash of humour in his eyes.

The instant the words are out, Felicity feels like the fog in her brain has lifted. Relief fills her as she smiles genuinely at the kind and reassuring words. She feels kinda emotional about it and thinks she’s being silly right now as she fights back tears that threaten to well. It’s freeing, in a sense, when the anxiousness goes away and the alertness dies, knowing a new person has got your back. It doesn’t come easy for Felicity to have that feeling; it’s been nearly 3 weeks with Oliver and she’s still struggling to find that easiness. But in this moment, she finds it instantly.

Deep down, she knows it’s different with Oliver. Like Oliver’s different, somehow. Different like her soul knows more than it’s letting on. That thought is equally exciting and downright scary.

But John Diggle personifies safety and friendship. She likes it, and she definitely has a good feeling about this.

Standing up, Diggle points to where a pile of mats are laying in a heap.

“A small run down of today: we’re going to test your movements and strength on those mats for me to get an idea where you’re at, then we are going to discuss how you want us to run these sessions. You’re cool with that?”

Biting her lip, Felicity nods as she follows her instructor over to the spacious area of the room, putting on her brakes firmly and unbuckling her seatbelt in preparation.

“So you’re the poor person who has the hard job of keeping Oliver Queen in check?” John asks as he flips and rotates the blue mats into a line.

Felicity frowns at that as she mindlessly watches. There’s nothing hard about Oliver Queen. Except maybe his— she shakes her head

“Hard? I wouldn’t go that far.”

“He doesn’t misbehave for you, like he did for me?”

She shakes her head, frowning still as her face scrunches up. What does that even mean? Again, there’s nothing mischievous about Oliver Queen. Okay, his eyes sometimes when they sparkle brightly as he teases her. And maybe he misbehaves in _bed_. But Felicity never _ever_ thinks about that little mystery. Nope. Not even when she read that romance novel about the military hero who reminded her of Oliver and all the raunchy sex scenes the character had. Not a single bit. Other than those poor business decisions in the first week, Oliver has always taken her advice, always been on time—google, sometimes he’s too annoyingly on time as he waits by her desk with a coffee while she finishes up work before they head to a meeting.

But he’s never gone against her.

“Interesting,” Digg hums, but before Felicity can question it further, John claps loudly, making her jump nearly out of her chair. “Anyway, are you ready to get out of your chair and show me what you got?”

⇆

Felicity finds it less awkward then she’s expecting when Digg lifts her in and out of her chair. His movements are sure but gentle, making her feel more at ease then embarrassed. On the rare occasion that someone has to pick her up, they umm and uhh about how they’re going to do it and tackle it awkwardly — generally without her input or acting like she has no idea how her own body works. She knows they mean well, only looking out for her best interests, but most of the time she feels so uncomfortable and embarrassed that she wishes the ground would swallow her up.

“You did good, Felicity. You are very strong for someone who’s petite.” Digg refers to the core and arms exercises they did, setting her back down into her chair.

“Uh, thanks!” Felicity says with an awkward flush as she buckles her seatbelt and looks up to find Digg staring at her from where he sits on the floor.

“I know I said we would take this at your pace on the phone. We’ve talked about your falls, and I’m going to think of ways to help you with that for our next session. But is there anything else you want to talk about? Anything else bothering you?”

Taking a moment before she answers, pretending to think about it, Felicity knows exactly what she’s going to say. It _bothers_ her that she has to talk about herself. She is completely fine with not talking about her _nonissues_ because she’s totally fine with her life right now. The thought of opening up about anything makes her cheeks burn and her chest feel like there’s an elephant sitting on it; the fog is starting to haze over again in her mind.

Watching intently, Digg scratches his chin and waits another minute before speaking softly but firmly.

“It seems like you’re aren’t a fan of talking about yourself.”

“Yeah,” Felicity agrees shakily, looking anywhere but at the man in front of her as she tries to gulp down air. “It gives me anxiety.”

“Do you have anxiety right now?” Diggle questions with a knowing yet kind look.

Does she have anxiety right now? Holy shit, yes! The urge to bolt is unbelievably tempting, but her hands are stuck to the rims of her wheels.

Her face feels like it’s on fire, and the beat of her heart is on triple time as the weight on her chest is making her breath stunted.

“I know it’s hard but I want you to stay with this feeling. Tell me what you’re experiencing, Felicity.”

“Umm...I...It’s...my cheeks are hot and there’s this weight on my chest. My mind's all foggy. And I really want to get the hell out of here if I’m honest!” Felicity laughs humorlessly, self-loathing evident in her voice as she barely makes eye contact.

Giving her an encouraging smile, Digg hums and holds her gaze in comfort.

“That’s completely normal, Felicity. What you’re describing are signs of high anxiety.”

“W-what?”

Her brain is working too hard through the mist that’s filled her head to process that statement. The crochety old therapist at the hospital never actually explained anxiety to her, she just gave Felicity a pamphlet and sent her on her way. Her breath hitches as she tries to swallow in preparation to ask more and a soft, large hand covers hers.

“Take big breaths, Felicity. Why don’t I explain the different types of anxiety while you focus on calming yours?” Diggle suggests, as Felicity realises he’s kneeling before her.

She nods as she puts a hand on her heart to help steady the gross backflips it’s doing against her chest. She listens for 10 minutes, breathing and nodding whenever she can as Digg’s deep, warm voice soothes her — each minute she can feel herself calm down until her mind’s clear and her chest is light.

“How are you feeling now?”

“Better, thanks. I’m sorry but I didn’t take much of that in!”

“I’m glad, and that’s cool. We can go over it next week. I think it’s a good starting point. We can chat about what makes you anxious and how you can down-regulate it by yourself,” he offers, standing up and stacking the mats in the corner.

Feeling lighter than she has since she has come here, Felicity nods with a big smile. It’ll be awesome to learn more about what she goes through every time she freaks out, especially how to cope with it. That’s going to help so much when she’s out by herself.

She hums happily as she turns in her seat and reaches over the back to grab her sparkly, pink, polka dotted purse, which is neatly tucked away in the pouch on the back of her wheelchair.

“How much do I owe you?” she asks as she unzips her purse.

Diggs’ brows narrow awkwardly. “Uh, the first one’s on the house.”

“Sure?”

Nodding, he waves her through the archway. Nerves start to roll in her tummy as she leaves the workout room. Despite the lightness she’s feeling, Felicity’s ridiculously tired, both physically and emotionally. All she wants to do right right now is go home, flop on her bed and nap the day away. And possibly eat donuts, too. 

So the thought of meeting Lyla or seeing Oliver again has her praying to the universe that they’re too busy to speak — she doesn’t have the energy to stay around and be friendly. Luckily, Lyla is missing and Oliver is on the phone as they step into the foyer, but Felicity gives Oliver a little wave on the way past and gets a wave goodbye and a gorgeous smile back.

“You did really well today, Felicity. I hope to see you at the same time next week?” Digg says as they part.

She nods and smiles brightly in agreement, feeling much better about coming here as she rolls through the front door and heads towards the train station, pondering if it’s too much effort to stop and get donuts on the way home.

She sighs as a sense of peacefulness settles over her, then she smiles.

Of course not, donuts are _never_ too much effort.

 


	5. He Likes Me?... He Likes Me Not!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey loves!
> 
> It was my birthday yesterday and I really wanted to post this chapter to give all of you amazing readers a GIFT because you give me so much happiness and encouragement by reading this!
> 
> A big thanks to Christine and Madalyn for editing this <3
> 
> BRING ON THE FLIRTY FLIRT! :)

* * *

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* * *

 

**Sunday, 19th May 2013**

Preparation is Felicity’s middle name. LOL it’s really not — it’s Megan. But it should be. Ever since her accident, Felicity’s life has become one big plan.

Which is absurd because she doesn’t really do anything at all. But here she is making plans, plans, plans. Preparing by knowing the public transportation timetables, preparing by knowing how long something’s going to take her and preparing for any mishaps along the way. That’s a must-have plan. Mishaps is Felicity’s second middle name. For sure. There isn’t a day where she doesn't drop something and panic in the moment about picking the item up.

Currently she’s working on her “the night before work” plan which includes laying all her clothes out in preparation for the morning, packing her lunch and organizing her bag. Felicity already has to get up 90 minutes before she has to leave because 25 minutes of it is just her putting on pants. So if she can cut any time in her mornings, she’s gonna do it. Getting dressed before caffeine is her own personal hell.

What generally is a calming and relaxing time in her routine is the opposite tonight as her wonderfully annoying best friend decides that they need to have a _little_ chat.

“We _need_ to discuss this, Lis,” Sara emphasises as she flops onto Felicity’s bed, bouncing a little when she lands.

“I’ve been avoiding this for the last 24 hours, what makes you think I’m going to start discussing it now?” Felicity huffs, rummaging through her closet trying to find the grey dress with the neon squares that fits perfectly, showing off her curves.

“But _he_ knew you were having an anxiety attack!”

“Yeah, and Oliver’s a _soldier,_ Sara! He’s probably attuned to those kinds of things.”

Seriously, Felicity has no idea why her best friend is making a big deal out of this. Yes, Oliver did in fact pick up on her freak out, but so did Digg during their session. They’re both been soldiers for a while now, and it’s probably in their training. It’s just logical thinking, but Sara is reading way too much into this for someone who is usually so chill about these kind of things.

Sighing in frustration, Sara dramatically covers her face with her forearm, clearly displeased that her friend isn’t getting the point. 

“That may be the case, but I’m sure as hell that he’s more attuned to _you.”_

Attuned to her? Ha! When pigs grow wings and fly through windows. Felicity scoffs as she struggles to get the dress down from its hanger.

“Okay, I have no idea where you’re heading with this but Nyssa was there, too. She totally saw my freak out as well,” she argues, looking over her shoulder as her hands still unsuccessfully pull at the material.

Sara sighs lightly again, flipping herself off the bed and coming over to help Felicity with her height issue, wearing a dopey grin on her face.

“I love that woman with all of my heart, but Nyssa was too busy staring daggers at Oliver and trying to mind interrogate him to notice,” Sara says lovingly, but there’s some humour bubbling in her eyes as she lifts the hanger off the rod and hangs it on the wardrobe door knob for easy access.

Chuckling at the thought, because it’s kinda true, Felicity makes her way over to her underwear drawer. Nyssa has a tendency to try to get into people's heads to suss out their intentions. She’s weird like that.

“You would think she’s assassin royalty the way she acts sometimes.”

“Don’t try to change the subject, Lis.”

“What are you trying to say then?” Felicity asks, brows narrowing in confusion. She has no idea what her best friend is implying, but based on the smile she can see from where Sara’s sitting on the bed, watching her choose underwear — maybe Felicity doesn’t want to know.

“Oliver Queen has a crush on you.”

Um… WHAT? Felicity’s throat feels like it’s closing in on itself as her ribs feel like they're squeezing the life out of her lungs. Obviously Sara’s gone insane. Bat shit crazy insane. That’s the only explanation for this ludicrous notion. 

Oliver Queen does _not_ have a crush on her. The man having a crush? That’s bizarre itself. He could get any woman he wanted if he tried, no crushing required. But a crush on her? That’s downright unthinkable.

It’s not like she’s anybody’s type to be crushed on anyway. Nobody falls in love with girls in wheelchairs. She knows firsthand that chairs aren’t sexy. No person has ever looked at somebody in a chair and thought, ‘ _damn, I want a piece of that!’_

So, yeah. Sara has gone insane.

“I’m not saying he’s gonna propose anytime soon, but there’s definitely a date in the near future,” Sara continues with a smirk, giving her best _oh-that’s-right-this-is-happening-right-now-when-you’re-picking-out-lace-underwear_ slow nod, before gesturing at Felicity’s Nemo impression. “Before you say anything, I saw the way he looked at you yesterday. Heart eyes, my friend. Heart eyes.”

 _Oh my god. This is not happening_ , Felicity thinks as she closes her eyes for a second and laughs manically internally as she buries her head in her hands, which are holding tomorrow’s lingerie. Wait. No, she did say that out loud. Because by the time she opens her eyes, Sara’s looking at her like _she_ is the one who’s insane and not the other way around.

“No, no, no. You have this ALL wrong, Sara!” Felicity cries. The lacy red panty in her hand waves like a flag as her arms flail in crazed protest. “Oliver Queen _does not_ have a crush on me! In fact, Oliver Queen is probably _banging_ some A-grade supermodel in his luxurious penthouse somewhere right now, and she’s probably a master in tantric sex who can put her legs above her head!”

By the time she’s finished, Felicity is on the verge of hysteria. She’s gasping and her face is red, matching the underwear she’s still holding in the air, until she throws them at Sara when she only laughs at her friend’s reaction.

Catching them, Sara puts them on the bed before coming to kneel in front of Felicity. She takes Felicity’s hand and squeezes it before letting go.

“Firstly, the tabloids say that he’s not dating anyone. No supermodel tantric sex master to worry about,” Sara teases with a raised eyebrow before her eyes turn serious. “Secondly, oh my god. You don’t have any idea, do you?”

Felicity frowns questionly.

“You’re amazing, Felicity. Truly. You have no idea how beautiful you are inside and out.” Sara smiles as she takes Felicity’s hand again. “You’re smart, witty and full of pure sunshine. There’s nothing fake about you. You don’t hide from the hardships. You fight them with a smile. And you shine in the good times. That’s part of the reason people are drawn to you, Lis. You’re just you. Not to mention those gorgeous blue eyes of yours and that killer smile that screams positiveness and adorableness that makes all the girls and guys come running.”

Felicity gasps, not knowing what to say. She knows as her best friend, Sara has to say those things, especially the part about the guys. No guy ever runs towards her, they only run away from her. But, it’s still nice for her self confidence to hear that.

Having no words, Felicity replies by wrapping her arms around her friend’s neck with a watery smile.

“I’m not saying it will be Oliver, however I’m _totally_ saying it’s Oliver,” Sara tells her jokingly, her voice is uncharacteristically emotional as she returns the hug, “but some guy very soon is gonna try to sweep you off your wheels! Promise me that you’ll at least try to let them in, please? Because I genuinely think Oliver really likes you.”

All Felicity can do is nod. She’ll try for Sara. But she doubts that it will ever happen. She and Oliver are just friends. And she still believes that no guy will ever see her the way she wants them to. That will be her own little secret. Sara doesn’t have to know, especially after today.

“Good,” Sara says as she pulls back and stands up. The mood changes as she walks over to Felicity’s desk and picks up her laptop. “Do you want to watch something before bed?”

“Fine,” Felicity faux groans, smiling cheekily as she rolls towards her door. “Let’s watch in your bed this time. I still have your freaking sandwich crumbs floating around in my sheets from Friday.”

⇄

**Monday, 20th May 2013**

The hatred Felicity feels towards Monday is usually laced with anger that she has to get up early, get dressed and exist in the big, wide world beyond the peace and quiet of her apartment, leaving her books behind. Today, it’s interlaced more with uncertainty and the fear of the possibility that her best friend could be, maybe, perhaps, telling the truth and hasn’t turned crazy despite her recent suggestions.

_‘Oliver Queen has a crush on you.’_

The words have been rolling around her mind, haunting her from the moment she woke up. Her first instinct is to stay home and avoid Oliver completely, but she knows she’s being silly. She can’t avoid her _boss_ and miss an entire day’s work because of a theory that he has a possible crush on her.

Because he certainly does _not._

Felicity’s still wary though, keeping clear of Oliver as much as she can by keeping busy this morning — and successfully too, she might add — apart from Oliver’s quick hello, a coffee drop-off and the query about how it went with Digg.  He suggests that they do coffee afterwards next week, and she replies that she would let him know, pretending that she has other plans. She kinda does, but instead of it being with other people, it’s with herself and her online class.

Thinking she’s getting away without any awkward and sudden ‘ _uh-excuse-me-Oliver-but-do-you-like_ like- _me?-because-Sara-thinks-you-do-fyi’_ outbursts as it. But she’s gets caught like a very awkward lady deer in the headlights when Oliver calls her into his office to go through the afternoon’s schedule as she scurries her hands on the wheels as fast as she can to make a clean break for lunch.

That’s why she’s now playing the most tortuous game with herself as she watches him write in his day planner as lunch nears.

_Does he? Does he not?_

Her brow furrows in concentration, taking in his handsome face. It’s a puzzle that she doesn't want to solve, but the part of her that hates mysteries is literally begging to unleash its genius-level solving power and add the equation together and get it over with. But her heart is calling the shots and it definitely doesn’t want to know the answer. Not now, not ever. 

Oliver’s own brows narrow as he studies what he has written. There’s a light flush on his cheeks that highlights the scruff covering his angular jaw, making Felicity’s gaze linger on it before mindlessly staring at the red pen in his hand again. She blushes at the sight and the next crazy idea that’s going through her head.

 

_If he looks up at her and smiles randomly, he has a crush._

Why does she do this to herself? She’s blaming Sara. She wouldn’t be playing this odd and childish game if it weren’t for her.

Oliver looks up from his page and smiles at her, his eyes focusing on her before adding something else in his notes. Felicity gulps and smiles back nervously, averting her gaze to the the hem of her purple capped sleeve dress then her tablet that’s neatly tucked up the side of her chair.

Oh god, this is bad. Okay, okay. She needs to think of something else to change it back.

_If he doesn't speak for the next 30 seconds, he doesn’t have a crush._

A moment of silence passes and Felicity lets a sigh of relief past her bright red lips. Thank god. The sound echos through the office, causing Oliver to look up with a confused smile. And Felicity’s right back where she started. So does this mean he’s back to having a crush? Or does it not apply because it’s an old rule? Oh my god, this would be so much easier if she just had picked the damned random daisy that was growing through the cracks of the sidewalk on the way here and pulled the petals instead of playing this silly game and the nonsense rules she’s enforcing on herself.

Actually she’s blaming the flower. It gave her the idea, and turned her into this embarrassing ridiculous tween. She’s a grown woman for god’s sake. Her boss is a lovely and kind man. That’s all. Nothing to see here. So get a grip and snap the frack out of it!

Too busy scolding herself, Felicity misses her name being called as Oliver rounds his desk. 

“Fe-li-ci-ty!” Oliver calls loudly, concern swimming in his deep blues.

“What?” she snaps, too caught up in the anger toward herself and the fact that it’s still Monday. She jumps when she sees that he’s now leaning against the front of his desk with a deep frown on his face. Her voice grows soft as she speaks again. “Sorry. What is it, Oliver?”

“Are you okay? You’ve been… odd all morning.”

“Odd?” Felicity squeaks, sounding like a dying cat that’s being strangled and drowned at the same time as she wrings her hands, shifting awkwardly in her chair.

Holy Pluto, this is it. It’s all over. She’s gonna have to blurt everything out and pack up her stuff and do the wheel of shame. Her fingers death grip the rims, her knuckles white as Oliver tilts his head and studies her with a cute, confused look. 

“It’s like you’ve been avoiding me or something. Is this about Saturday?” he says softly, almost like he’s afraid of the answer. 

Felicity smiles at that, shaking her head. He’s too sweet.

“Oh no! I didn’t mind you being there. It’s just- I-I have a lot going on up on here,” she says, tapping the side of her temple.

 _About whether or not you want to take me on a date,_ she thinks silently.

Oliver hums and fiddles with the pen he just picked up from his desk before looking at Felicity, obviously taking her word for it. “Anyway, I was asking if there’s anything else on the agenda?”

Grateful for the change in subject, Felicity shakes off whatever childish mood she was in before and goes into her best EA mode.

“Uh, yes. Your mom called. She knows it’s still a month away but she wants your RSVP for the Starling Children's Hospital Gala that she’s hosting. She needs to know numbers ASAP,” she tells him firmly as she picks up her tablet, but her voice softens as she knows what he’s going to say. “And Oliver, I know you have your issues but it’s your mom. You should go. I can’t keep telling her you’ll get back to her.”

Groaning, Oliver rolls his eyes and throws the pen back onto his desk; he doesn’t answer right away, leaving Felicity’s brain to whiz around for a moment. 

Suddenly, it hits her like a Tardis to the face. She knows how to put this stupid _crush_ thing to bed AND give Oliver an incentive to go to the gala. She smirks to herself. She absolutely loves when sneaky ideas come to her.  She feels like a spy in these moments. Ugh, she wishes she had her black trench coat or put on an accent or something, but Oliver knowing who she is would defeat the purpose.

“You know, your mom keeps mentioning that a ‘Helena Bertinelli’ is going to be there. Moria is sure you’d be excited to see her!” Felicity teases, wagging her eyebrows suggestively.

The answer she’s expecting is not the one Oliver makes. He scoffs and lets out a humourless laugh before crunching his nose up is disdain.

“Like that would make me want to go! Mom’s been trying to set me up with Helena since our college days. Helena is—”

“HOT!” Felicity exclaims as she interrupts whatever Oliver’s going to say, her nose nearly touching the screen as she stares in awe at the professional photo of Helena that stares back at her. The girl looks like a freaking model with her long brunette hair, and slender yet graceful figure, complimenting her beautiful face. Wait, she’s an _actual_ model according to her Facebook page. Oh my god, Helena’s probably a master in tantric sex who can put her legs above her head, too! She knew it! She’s totally gonna rub this in Sara’s face later.

Oliver’s exasperated sigh pulls Felicity out of her ‘ _Haha, Sara!’_ moment but her eyes are still glued to the tablet as she quickly searches for more proof.

“Felicity! How many times do I have to tell you to not hack into—”

Holding out a hand to stop Oliver from talking, Felicity rolls her eyes while continuing to scroll through the content. “Oh please, that was like, once! On an investor we knew nothing about. It helped, didn’t it? And cool your jets, buddy. I’m only on your girlfriend’s social media sites.”

“She’s _not_ my girlfriend,” he bites out, shifting uncomfortably on his desk and ignoring the snark from Felicity who casually hacked the FBI last week when a new investor came on board with little background information. It was no biggie on Felicity’s side of things but Oliver had nearly blown a gasket until he admitted it was impressive.

“Have you seen her!?” Felicity jokingly argues, rolling up to her boss, sticking her tablet with a picture of the model in nothing but lingerie under his nose and pointing. “She’s everybody’s type. She’s a freaking model! Who does charity for sick kids and puppies! Oh my god, I’d date her if I batted for the other team.”

She laughs when Oliver raises his eyebrow but stops when he takes the tablet away and grabs her wrist to lower it.

“Yeah, and behind the scenes she’s high maintenance, snobby and totally not my _type,_ ” he insists as he lets go of her wrist that’s now resting in her lap.

Felicity honestly doesn’t know what possesses her to do it. Obviously she likes to put herself on the edge of an awkward situation and wait there to see if she embarrasses herself enough to jump. Metaphorically speaking, of course. Perhaps it’s that her heart has put its guard down for one second or perhaps it’s what the daisy idea represents coming back to haunt her, but she asks the question.

“So what’s your type then?”

Oliver just smiles for a second and blushes slightly at his shoes before licking his lips, clasping his hands in his lap and looking up.

“Uh. Someone’s who is grounded, who makes me laugh. And someone who’s definitely _not_ high maintenance.

Well, that’s her answer, folks. There is proof that Oliver Queen does not have a crush on her. It’s finally over. Because, being in a chair? That’s high maintenance to the core. Opening doors all the time, making sure her chair fits in places, having to wait back in concerts to let the crowd go first, being stared at in restaurants? Of course no one wants to date that. She even worries about her friends putting up with that. So yeah, she’s relieved that she has her answer. She can move on and go back being lonely ol’ Felicity. That’s how she likes it.

But why is she feeling like her heart sank a little bit? Shaking it off, Felicity smiles and nods.

A moment passes in silence until Oliver stands up and nervously steps from side to side, and the string of words that he blurts out fill up the space between them.

“Come with me?”

“Excuse me?!”

“Come with me to the gala?” 

Felicity’s not sure how they went from talking about his type, which is _not_ her, to inviting her to his Mom’s thing as his plus one. But it happened and she’s kinda whiplashed and confused. She swallows at the idea, picturing the crowd and all the fake smiling she would have to do.

“Oliver, I can’t—” she starts, shaking her head no.

“Please,” Oliver begs, pouting like a child and Felicity can’t help but smile. “You go and keep me company so Helena won’t stick her claws into me. Mom will be happy I’m there and we can network. It’s a win-win, really.”

Taking a deep breath in, Felicity considers it. She didn’t even think about the company and it’s reputation. It’s probably good to show that QC is going well under Oliver’s rein, and not to mention the networking they could do. Also, yes, she’ll go to help Oliver. Because apparently she can’t say no to him. She’s not that kind of friend either. She won’t leave a friend in need, although it means actually leaving the warmth of her bed and go to an overcrowded party. Even if she has to double down on her ‘Felicity Time’ and hibernate until then. A girl’s got to prepare and pumped herself to go to an event like that.

It definitely helps that the company will benefit from her going. If it was just a social thing, she would be a big fat no but she can’t really let Mr ‘I don’t know what I’m doing half the time unless Felicity prods me in the right direction’ to talk numbers and stats with possible investors all by himself. It’s not like Oliver is dumb with business - no, the ideas and drive he has for this company is amazing, he’s more of a people person whereas she’s more of the nitty gritty strategic thinking, study the stocks kind of gal. Huh, they seem to complement each other it seems.

“Fine, I’ll go. But you owe me big time, Mister!” She whines, rolling her eyes at herself for actually agreeing to it.

The dimpled smile he gives her nearly makes up for it but then Oliver rushes over and leaning down to playfully hug her. His scent invades her as he wraps his arms around her neck, whooshing all the air out of her as she tries not to linger on the sweet manly smell of musk and something totally Oliver. 

“Thank you.” He whispers in her ear, causing faint but very unnessary tingles to go up her spine.

Has she mentioned that being Oliver Queen’s _friend _ is the hardest and easiest thing she’s ever done?

⇄

**Saturday, 25th May 2013**

“So,” she wheezes out, feeling like she’s about to die from exhaustion.

Her arms burn and she actually thinks they’ve turned to jello as Felicity pulls back the bar on the rowing machine. She’s not quite sure where the boldness is coming from as she looks over to the corner where Oliver’s pumping up fitness balls with air. He’s looking hella fine in those running shorts, with the way his biceps flex under his white t-shirt and his dog tags carelessly hanging from his neck. It’s making her drool. If she had any saliva in her mouth right now, because of all the work Digg’s making her do has her dryer than the Vegas desert. The point is, Oliver is meant to be helping Lyla train the guys today so she can spend more time with her clients talking and Felicity must be delusional from the exercise or maybe it’s from the high that she didn’t clam up when she told Digg about what makes her have anxiety earlier. Whatever it is, it makes her want to open up a little more and perv on her boss friend at the same time.

“Sara says I have to prepare myself for when, uh, people want to, umm, get to know me better.” she grunts out between rows. 

She’s totally played it cool, she thinks and she smiles to herself. Digg’s never going to suspect that she actually means ‘Guys who potentially want to date me’. Google, she could totally nail the spy life. But that doesn’t mean that she can’t talk to anyone about these kind of things. When she met the lovely Lyla in the foyer this morning, the older woman had given her a kind smile and offered that her door was always open for girl talk. While Felicity appreciates the sentiment, she still feels too awkward about opening up about that stuff yet. She might not ever be ready to have an open conversation regarding romantic entanglements. She’ll stick to the half truths for now.

“Ah, yes. _People._ ” Digg smirks as he follows Felicity line of sight to reveal a slightly sweaty Oliver before turning back to watch her from the sidelines murmuring to her to do another set before adding, “And yes, your friend might be onto something.”

God damn it! Felicity’s cocky smile fades as she realises Digg’s onto her. Ugh, why did she stare while she said it? She knows she shouldn’t but those tight shorts, and the whole pumping action.. Wow. And the sweat. The glorious sweat. He’s standing and lifting up his top to wipe the tiniest bit of moisture from his brow, showing off a glimpse of what looks like a freaking 8 pac and Felicity nearly wobbles as butterflies take flight in her stomach. It makes him look like he’s doing a suggestive cover on one of those men’s health magazines. Glaring at the offending faux photo shoot that’s happening in the corner that has her in trouble, she huffs and turns back to focus on her task.

“But how do I prepare for that?” she asks quietly, not able to look at Digg. Telltales signs of anxiety start to hit her as her throat closes up as she blushes. It’s probably just her but the double meaning behind her question screams into the space around them.

Digg hums, letting the question linger for a bit. Sneaking a peek towards the gentle giant, Felicity sees a kind smile on Digg’s face as he speaks in a soft tone. “You said before that letting people in is hard and causes you anxiety.”

“Mmhmm...” Felicity agrees, her movements on the machine are loose and unsteady. Her chest is getting heavy and her mind is fogging over. She’s knows she’s not gonna last much longer but she tries to focus on finishing the set. A warm hand on hers stop her movements and she immediately lets go, causing it to crash back into the machine with a loud bang.

“Felicity, look at me,” Digg lightly demands, causing her to look up into his eyes, a little disoriented. “Are you okay? Do we need to stop and focus on down-regulating your anxiety?”

She shakes her head. She might be a little hazy but it’s nothing that she can’t handle. “I just need a moment.” she grits out.

They sit there for a beat, then go through breathing exercises together until Felicity sighs and apologizes.

“You don’t need to apologise, Felicity,” Digg notes. “ I know this is hard on you. You’re doing excellent. If you’re ready, I’d like to ask you a question.”

Nodding, Felicity awaits for the question that she knows isn’t going to be easy. But she’s a Smoak and her mom has taught her that Smoak ladies don’t go down without a fight.

“Why do you find it hard to let some people in?”

If her mind wasn’t fogging up like an icy winter's morning, Felicity would have pulled up on the interesting use of the word ‘some’. Instead her heart starts to race like someone is chasing her and the elephant that lives in her chest is making itself at home.

“Because some people leave.” she grits out. She’s not trying to be short or rude but that’s the only thing she can get out right now without her voicebox dying.

John seems to understand as he comes and bends down to her level and holds her hand silently, letting her have a minute before speaking so she can calm herself like he taught her too.

“In your file, it says that your dad left when you were seven. Is this a part of the reason?”

Felicity tries to laugh but it comes out as a sob, causing Digg to squeeze her hand. She wishes it was the reason. Maybe it has a little something to do with it but it’s definitely not a thing. She’s never really gotten upset over it. Her dad wasn’t around much even before he left. Although, she was young, Felicity still picked up on the tension within the house whenever he was around. Later, she found out that her father got himself into some very bad situations that put her mom and herself at risk so Donna did what any brave and courageous mother would do and asked her husband to go and never come back.

“No,” she whispers, shaking her head. “It was for the best that he left.”

“Then what’s the reason?” Digg queries, his tone is gentle and not demanding but there’s a firmness to it as his gaze tries to find hers but fails.

_‘Babe, did you really think I'd stick around?’_

The mantra that keeps playing in the back of her head constantly like a bad melody, suddenly turns into a punch in the face again. A single tear rolls down her pale cheek as she shakes her head rapidly. She can’t talk about that now. Not when her head’s pounding to the sound of her racing pulse and she feels like her brain is sluggish more than usual.

Digg squeezes her hand tightly as his other hand lands on her forearm. “Okay, I think we’ll leave this for another day. Let’s focus on your breathing and get that smile back on your face, girl.”

Slowly but surely, Felicity’s smile creeps back until she sighs and wipes her wet cheeks, finally looking at the man in front of her to find a proud look directed at her on his face.

“I guess I hit a nerve,” Digg says with upturned lips and a casual shrug. “Sorry. However, that’s good because it’s something we can build up to.”

Unsure if she’s ever willing to reach that point in sharing but she’s willing to trust Digg, Felicity hums. She’s willing to discuss this in the future.

Standing up and stretching his back, Digg adds one final thing with a wink as he watches Oliver enter the workout room again. “To answer your question, the best preparation is to dive in head first and hope you come up swinging. It doesn’t matter how you get to the surface so long as you tried.”

Pondering over the words, Felicity watches Oliver as he packs up the equipment in the corner. Is she willing to dive in and go to a simple coffee date with him now? Will she come up swinging? Not literally of course, because that would be bad and kinda odd if she accidently punched Oliver in his beautiful face if she accepted his offer. It might give off the wrong impression. Mix signals and all that. Or would she drown and mess their friendship up by having an attack in the shop?

A large hand waves in front of her face interrupts her musings and she jumps when Digg speaks. “Earth to Felicity, I said: are you going to be okay if I go get your chair?" 

“Sorry... I was just — Yes, I’m okay here! Oh, and PS. Are you going to let me pay this week?” she questions with a bemused smile.

Digg smiles then looks back at Oliver and chuckles like he’s having an inside joke with himself.

“I am,” he says warmly, pointing at her before making her mother’s favourite joke, heading towards where they left her chair. “Don’t move.” 

A small familiar giggle slips out as she’s reminded to call her mother and tell her how much she loves her, even though her mind is back on Digg’s words. She can’t decided what to do, her brain and heart are at battle as her eyes drift over to the man that’s causing this internal war. Her mind is screaming to do the logical thing and confront her fears. It’s the only way for her to start moving forward. But her heart is shutting the windows and dead bolting it’s door, activating the high tech security system it installed so no one can get in or out.

In the end, the choice is made for her as Oliver catches her staring and gives her a smile, which looks a little smug if she’s seeing right. The bastard. She blushes but beckons him over in a friendly wave. Casually, Oliver strolls over like he’s Mr. Cool or something and Felicity’s heart decides it’s done and tries to leap out of her rib cage and run for the hills as her jaw drops.

Because the stupid hot idiot is absolutely pulling the t-shirt move again.

She’s 99% sure that he knows exactly what he’s doing, but yet he seems so naive about his actions, like he was actually working out in some secret area hidden in the warehouse and there’s actual sweat on his brow. Wait, is he puffing?

Yeah, excuse her while she follows her heart towards the hills.

However, the butterflies in her stomach don’t seem to mind as they bounce around. Raunchy little devils. It’s like they want her to throw herself at him as she wobbles and loses her balance to the side that he’s on. But before Felicity can grab onto anything to save herself, a pair of large and very familiar hands steady her.

Gee, thanks butterflies. You don’t need to flutter harder. She gets the friggen point. You succeeded. 

“Are you okay?” Oliver asks with a chuckle, smiling as Felicity looks up with wide eyes.

It’s only then she realises that her hand is on his hard stomach, trembling on its own accord as it itches to crawl up his chest to play with the dog tags that lay there and she chokes. Literally chokes on air. The recent friendly hug they shared has nothing on this. Compared to this, that felt like she was being hugged by her mother or something. Not that her mother has an intoxicating scent and incredibly muscled arms or whatever. The heat that’s radiating off his skin underneath his shirt where she’s touching as she feels the outline of his 8 pack — oh, it’s definitely a 8 pac— isn’t what makes her flinch away like she has been burnt. No, It’s the heat of his palm with the calming stroke of his thumb on her sensitive and sore lower back. She barely holds a moan in as he lingers for a tortuous second before pulling back as she shivers.

“Sorry, did I hurt your back?” he asks as he obviously feels the jolt in her spine, genuine concern evident in his intense eyes as Felicity blinks rapidly.

“I— I don’t really like my back being touched, that’s all!” she squeaks, flushing as she focuses on her limp legs, wishing for some strength back to act normal and say what she actually call him over for.

Lies. It’s a big, fat lie. If he only knew the truth about how to get Felicity Smoak purring like a kitty cat. Since her accident, her lower back is super sensitive and to make matters worse — sitting in a chair all day, every day — makes it ache constantly. So some light fingers stroking and scratching over the area feels like pure heaven bliss to Felicity. There has been numerous nights where she’s embarrassingly fallen asleep as Donna rubbed her back soothingly like a child. Oliver’s touch is different, though. It ignites something new and foreign in her that she doesn’t even want to acknowledge. 

He looks crestfallen at the idea that he did something to hurt her and Felicity can’t help but smile a little at how wrong he is. With a deep breath, she soldiers onto the task at hand, praying that she can get through this with looking like a loser.

“It’s okay, Oliver. I actually wanted to know if you’d— if we could— if that...”

Before she can get it out in sentence fragments, she sees Digg coming back with her chair and she playfully pushes Oliver’s chest, hinting that he should go.

“Shoo, Digg’s coming! I don’t want to get you in trouble.” She laughs as she watches Oliver pout as he walks backwards with his hands in his pockets.

Once Digg settles her into her chair, Felicity rolls over to where Oliver’s standing and smiles when he bends down with a shy wiggle of his nose.

“Sorry about before. I wanted to know if that coffee offer is still up for grabs? As friends, of course.” She beams nervously, feeling like she needed to add the friends part in for some reason after the moment they add, even if it’s been made perfectly clear that she’s not his type. No matter what happened before, she’s proud of herself. It’s a big step for her. Even if she gets there and pulls one of her famous ‘I’m suddenly sick’ nervous moves.

The smile that Oliver gives her lights up his entire face as his eyes beam with happiness.

“Of course! Are you sure?”

She likes it that he asks her that and she simply nods as they stare at one another with matching smiles.

“Digg,” Oliver calls out without breaking their gaze. “Can I lea—”

There's a hearty sigh and then a chuckle from the foyer.

“Jesus Christ, Oliver. You’re a grown-ass man. I’m not your captain anymore. Just go already.”

⇄

A short walk to the diner up the street finds the duo playing their ‘vs’ game. It’s been awhile since one of them has brought it up and Felicity can’t help but smile at the calming sense it gives her when Oliver starts with a food theme, his face adorably serious when he fires the first question. She has missed this game and the light banter that comes with it. Soon enough, they learn that they both _love_ apple crumble with icecream, Felicity is allergic to nuts and Oliver absolutely despises cherries.

Once after they arrived and Oliver — the _ever so_ gentleman that he is — holds the door open and ushers her through with a hand on the back of her sparkly red wheelchair. Felicity quickly wheels over to the counter and orders herself a caramel latte, Oliver a black coffee and two big slices of apple crumble with icecream while Oliver’s too busy rearranging the shop’s cluttered layout so her chair has a direct path to the table for two by the window.

“Oliver,” Felicity teases, her voice is laced is amusement as she pulls up to the empty space of the table where a chair should be and shifts to get comfortable,  taking a look around to see chairs and tables have been completely moved. “I don’t think they needed a full revamp of this place!”

He huffs and a faint flush paints his cheeks as he awkwardly shifts in his chair and looks down and itches the back of his neck. 

“I know… I was— I mean— I was trying to help,” He mutters, still looking down. Felicity gasps as he lifts his head to meet her gaze, the simmering anger in his eyes as he shakes his head shocking her. “The layout is terrible for chairs! How do they expect you to get around freely when they just dumped furniture wherever? It’s like they don’t even think.”

Felicity bites her lip as her heart stops beating for a second. Oh my god, can this man stop playing havoc on her poor heart today? It’s already been through enough back at ARGUS with the shirt and the soothing yet sizzling back touches, let alone now as Oliver is quite certainly bringing sexy back with common sense.

It’s not like she’s not used to accessing the space whenever she goes somewhere and managing to get around tight spaces. She’s something is very good at now, only moving a chair or a random object here or there. But she gets Oliver’s frustration for her. She feels it and Sara does too. It is _very_ annoying and frustrating and plainly hurtful when shop owners watch her like a hawk when she maneuvers around in their unnecessary crowded space, like she’s going to hit something instead of taking the initiative to help and clear a path for her. It’s like it’s her fault that she’s in a chair and wants to come in to take a look around or wants to eat there if it’s a café.

What she’s not used to is someone who cares so deeply about her getting around in her chair easily that they rearrange a diner for her.   

“I know,” she acknowledges and it’s Felicity’s turn to look shy as she ducks her head down, not able to handle his intense blues anymore. “I really do appreciate the gesture.”

The atmosphere between them suddenly turns tense, but a good tense like sparks are simmering underneath, ready to fly at any moment as Felicity looks up to find Oliver staring at her with an unreadable look on his face. However the moment is broken when the waitress comes with their order.

“You didn’t have to buy me this, Felicity.” Oliver claims, taking a sip of his coffee while ogling his crumble.

“Call it a payback for all those coffees you wouldn’t let me buy, Mister!” She beams with a chuckle as she watches Oliver attack the poor helpless dessert. Spooning her own, she moans at the way the flavour hits her tastebuds.

“Well, thank you.”

She swears that his eyes darken a smidge when he watches her swallow the mouthful, but it’s probably her evil imagination playing tricks on her.

_Right?_

⇄

The conversation turns light as they finish their crumble, discussing anything and everything: his latest updates on Tommy’s shenanigans, how she’s settling into Starling and some work stuff. Oliver even shares some funny stories about his time during the Army. Felicity’s stomach hurts from laughing hearing about the time how Oliver and the rest of his unit had wrapped every possession of Digg’s in wrapping paper for his birthday.

“Is that why Digg said you misbehave for him?” Felicity asks with a chuckle, holding her tummy as the laughter pain dies down.

She frowns slightly as she watches some of the light fall out from Oliver’s eyes but still smiles as he asks, “What?”

“He asked me if you misbehave for me like you did for him.” she explains, confused by how his dimples are fading and his smile is becoming forced.

“H—he said that?”

 _Frack._ Obviously she triggered something within him as he struggles to not clench his jaw through his smile. God, she’s the worst person ever. She should be the last person ever to ask unwanted questions. She knows what’s it like to be pressured into talking about something in the past that has no right to be in the present, and it’s horrible. If he doesn’t want to talk about it then she’s gonna damned well change the subject and move on.

“Sorry, you don’t— I shouldn’t have… Forget I said anything!” She murmurs, guilt rising up in her stomach as she reaches across the table to put a soothing hand on his forearm, only to feel tense muscles underneath her palm

Instead of taking up the offer of dropping it, Oliver just smiles sadly as regret fills up his eyes.

Sadness erupts inside her, a lump forming in her throat as Felicity watches the regret take over every other emotion in Oliver’s body. She assumes there’s something in his past — his time in the Army — that he’s not very fond of remembering. Maybe it’s embarrassment that he did something he shouldn’t. Perhaps it’s shame that his old self being reckless and wild that got him into trouble. He sounded like he used to lash out before but clearly with Digg’s support, Oliver has gotten himself together and has become the man he is today: a charming, kind and extremely thoughtful man.

All she knows is that the man in front of her is probably taking on more guilt than he should.

Despite the curiosity that’s bubbling up like boiling water overflowing a pot, she pushes it down and she knows she’s made the right choice as Oliver sighs and smiles gratefully when she finally changes the topic.

“So tell me about these schools you’ve built, Saint Oliver!”

⇄

Her third cup of coffee steams in front of her as she mindlessly rips the napkin into small pieces. After hearing about his school building days, They somehow got onto the topic of family and Felicity went on a long winded embarrassing babble about her mom being her mom but she’s still the best person despite the fact she acts more like Felicity’s age than Felicity while Oliver laughs about the time Donna offered her daughter a fake ID because she ‘knew a guy’ that hung out in an alley by Caesar's Palace.

“Hey, how’s Thea?” Felicity asks with a smile, looking up from the mess to find Oliver staring at her with a smile.

“Good,” He sighs, wiping a hand over his face and cutely pouts. “I get she’s busy with college and friends, but it feels like forever since we’ve hung out. But she still says she wants to come by the office to met you.”

Ignoring the fact that Oliver apparently keeps mentioning her to important people in his life — she has _no_ idea what that’s about?! — Felicity focuses on that Oliver Queen misses his baby sister.

Well, she nearly outwardly _swoons_ at the thought at that but she saves herself by biting her lip and sipping on her coffee. Although he said that Thea could interrupt him at any time, Felicity has learnt that the younger Queen has been very occupied with her first year at Starling U studying Fashion Design, leaving no time for her mopey big brother who Felicity swears she has caught him staring at the elevator on a few occasions at lunch, in hopes that Thea would magically pop in on her days off.

Between his common sense and his love for his sister, Felicity’s secretly worried that her ovaries will explode. That can’t happen because that would be bad for her health, but also it would mean something that she’s not accepting. Ever.

“I’m sure once she’s finished finals, Thea will pop by and have lunch with you.” she assures him, her eyes sparkle and her ovaries tremble as hope flashes across Oliver’s face.

Stupid traitorous ovaries.

⇄

More time passes as the conversation continues easily as more coffee flows even freer.

“Any plans for the rest of the weekend?” Oliver asks as he puts down his mug, looking at her expectedly with a curious upturn of his lips.

She winces, knowing she sounds like a broken record whenever he asks on a Friday evening, “Not much. Just my online course.”

There’s no way Felicity’s explaining that she goes home to read or watch fictional characters get together while she yells loud out for them to ‘KISS ALREADY!’ and cheers and cries when they do. She’s already a bit of a loser, she doesn’t need her hunk of a boss to figure out that she’s an avid fangirl and a loner with few friends who hates going out because of her anxieties. So she lies every time. She rather prefer to seem boring than someone who has no social life at _all_.

“Quiet weekends are the best,” he comments softly, like he knows the truth. Like he knows that leaving the comfort of the couch to go socialising is sometimes a battle for her. There’s no pity in his voice, just a kind and accepting look on his face. “I’d rather stay home tonight too than go to the club that Tommy’s family owns. I’m actually envious of you. I have no idea why I let him drag me along to these types of places now.”

Ah yes, Verdant. She knows the place. Sara keeps mentioning how she’s going to take Felicity there for her birthday in July, pitching it as a fun night for an once off for a special occasion. Like that’s ever to happen. It’s a useless notion on Sara’s behalf, she actually thinks Felicity’s allowing it whenever she hums and changes the subject.

Feeling embarrassed about her non existent social life, Felicity’s throat starts to close on itself and the only sound she makes is a noncommittal hum and she looks down to her lap before staring at the people walking by, making Oliver notice her sudden awkward mood.

“Hey, hey,” he grabs her attention, sending her a encouraging smile while his eyes lit up in genuine excitement. “Tell me how’s your masters going?” 

For the first time in two and a bit hours, she checks her watches and realises it’s nearly 2pm and she hasn’t had the urge to fake sickness or have the eagerness to go home. Instead of being weirded out by that, she feels oddly okay and gives herself an internal high-five, adjusting her glasses before enthusiastically launching into telling Oliver about the recent development on her coding thesis.


	6. ...Even If We Are Just Dancing in the Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya peeps!
> 
> Thank you so much for your never ending support and love! It still blows me away every time I update... <3
> 
> Now, for some house-keeping, if you don't mind?
> 
> 1) I'm so sorry for this being very late. Real life got in the way. I'm in the middle of a research paper for uni, so that is taking up my writing time!  
> Also, I've recently received some very unexpected and sad news about a dear family member :( - so for a little while, I'll be taking some time away from being online to focus on my lovely family! Don't worry, I'll still be updating this as fast as I can (I'll be writing Chapter 7 as soon as my stupid paper is done!) but if you follow me on twitter - that's why I'm not there.
> 
> 2) Some of you want to know about Oliver's POV! I love that. But while I would love to share his ridicously smitten, heart eyed thoughts - I don't think it'll be any time soon or at all tbh. I started this fic to share Felicity's emotions, hopes and fears as a woman in a wheelchair - and there's sooo much more to tell from that POV that I don't think I could swap from her POV yet! I'm so sorry.
> 
> However, a friend suggested I could start up series of one shots (missing scenes, a different take of a scene etc) in Oliver's POV to partner with this fic. What do you think, loves? Let me know.
> 
> OKAY, most importantly... this is my favourite chapter yet! It's looong and STUFF HAPPENS ;)
> 
> ENJOY!
> 
> A big thanks to Christine and Madalyn for editing this <3
> 
> Emm xx

* * *

**Saturday 15th June, 2013 - 9:18am**

Sitting at her usual spot at the kitchen table, Felicity idly swipes through the social media apps on her tablet with an amused smirk on her face as Sara rushes around in front of her.

“Why didn’t you come wake me up?! I’m going to be so late for the new 10 o’clock class!” her roommate exclaims, slamming the fridge shut with her hip as her hands are filled with numerous food items for breakfast. 

“And interrupt the sexy sleepover?” Felicity says sarcastically, pointing a thumb over her shoulder to where she assumes Nyssa is still sleeping down the hall, “Uh, no thanks!”

She’s still scarred from the last time she’d wheeled into Sara’s room unannounced. It had been in the early days and Felicity was still settling in. She went to ask about the coffee machine and got an eyeful of a  _ very  _ heated make out instead. To make things worse, she froze in the doorway and started to babble statistics about morning sex, until she zoomed off, flushing, while the duo laughed at the awkward situation.

Trust her, she’s now learned her lesson about knocking.

In response to her sass, Sara arches an eyebrow as she smothers her toast in butter, wiping away the crumbs from her hands before taking a bite.

“Damn, I was hoping we’d get another sex statistic lesson,” the blonde says around a mouthful and gives Felicity a smirk.

According to Sara and her smart-alecky ways, for someone who claims to have the very _ minimal  _ experience, Felicity sure does know a lot about sex.

“Oh, har har,” Felicity retorts back before taking a large sip of her precious coffee, feeling the heat of the mug warm up her hands as she palms it. She closes her eyes for a moment and lets the early morning sink in before she has to head to Digg’s. The past three sessions have been great. Her arms are feeling stronger each week and thankfully there’s been no big falls since.

Yay her! 

Her confidence is definitely growing as she practices Digg’s tips and suggestions in her everyday life, laughing at her own inside joke that one day she’s gonna Hulk out and rip the grab bars right off the bathroom door because her arms will be  _ that  _ big.

While Digg says that they shouldn’t push her into talking every session about the big things that will set off her anxiety, they’ve been discussing why she doesn’t like asking people for help. Once her embarrassment had passed and she calmed herself down in the first session, it was a really interesting and helpful talk. Each week has been a little better — she even progressed to agreeing to let someone help her when they offered to get the Lucky Charms off the shelf that was just out reach at the grocery store. It’s a small thing that any other person wouldn’t blink an eye at, but Digg said it was a big step for her and gave her a massive hug when she relayed what happened.

That isn’t the only thing that’s progressing.

Her friendship with Oliver is blossoming, too. It’s kind of weird, actually. Despite her ovaries threatening to combust every time he does something sweet, or the fact she has to stop herself drooling whenever she looks at him — which is a lot — Felicity’s nerves have chilled and now it’s even more natural and easy to be around him.

It’s refreshing to go to work and laugh and chat with a friend. She’s never had that before. And ever since their coffee ‘date,’ there’s been an unspoken agreement to continue to have coffee and crumble weekly after Digg’s sessions. It wasn’t a big deal when the week after, Oliver had asked her if she was ready to go and she agreed. Now Oliver silently waits in the foyer for her until she’s finished paying. Sometimes if she turns around quickly enough, she finds him frowning at the EPOS machine. She thinks it’s probably because of the time Digg caught him yelling at it when he tried to process another client’s payment but it didn’t go through despite how many times he tried.

It’s nice to have that time with Oliver though, where it’s just them: two friends catching up. And not have the roles of CEO and EA hanging over them. Of course, sometimes they bitch about work, but mostly it’s just idle chit chat about  _ them _ and the recent happenings in their lives. Recently they’ve started to debrief while Felicity still processes what she’s learned with Digg, and Oliver listens. It’s nothing too heavy but she still appreciates the gesture. Oliver can be quite insightful.

However, much to Felicity’s disdain, her two lovely but frustrating friends have taken upon themselves to declare these very  _ platonic  _ coffee chats as dates. Therefore, Oliver’s crush is real and Felicity’s unknowingly dating her boss and...

Olicity™ is an official thing now. 

God knows why they want to trademark it! Sara says something about tabloids and wedding photos and Felicity just blanks out now after telling her, ‘ _ WE ARE JUST FRIENDS! _ ’ 

“Good Morning, Felicity,” Nyssa greets as she pads into the kitchen in nothing but one of Sara’s shirts and pours herself a bowl of cereal, the noise pulling Felicity out of her thoughts.

“Morning, Nyssa.”

“You’re looking cute today,” the brunette adds, jesting at Felicity with a smirk.

Looking down to take in her new, sheer, black leggings and her white, cropped t-shirt that says ‘Work-In-Progress’ in a pink, cute handwritten font that matches her still-awesome tennis shoes. “Aw, thanks. The outfit is new, I got it on sale at—”

“Wait!” Sara exclaims, dropping her toast and making her way over to Felicity, smiling like the Cheshire Cat as she playfully prods at Felicity’s waist. “Is that a flowy yet cropped shirt that implies you’re serious about working out but you wanna look good doing it? Oh my god, is that a hint of midriff?”

“What? No!” Felicity says defensively, pulling her top down so it meets the waistline of her pants while her other hand tries to stop Sara from tickling her as her friend’s eyes widen in glee.

“It is, too! Sara’s right!” Nyssa all but squeals as she abandons her breakfast and runs over to inspect the outfit. Which is totally weird because… well, because Felicity has never heard Nyssa squeal. The highest she’s heard Nyssa’s voice is when she drunkenly sang Whitney Houston in an impromptu karaoke session back in Boston when the ladies came out to visit.

Good grief, she has no idea why these two are making a fuss over this new outfit. All she did was go online shopping, stumble upon a Nike sale, decide the outfit was cute, then order it. It’s not some makeover montage in a movie or something, where the nerd becomes hot. She always dresses like this, apart from the whole cropped shirt and showing some skin. That‘s new. 

“It’s kinda  _ sexy, _ ” Sara cooes, getting another poke in before Felicity slaps her away. Then suddenly, Sara eyes widen. She whacks her girlfriend like she’s  _ just _ figured something out and her voice is high in shock, but Felicity knows it’s fake. There’s something telling in her friend’s look that Felicity doesn’t like. “Oh. Oh my lord, it’s Saturday…”

Felicity groans: she should have seen this one coming a mile away. Of course, they think it’s about Oliver. “NO! Nope, don’t even go there.”

“It’s hard not too, Lis,” Sara teases as she wraps an arm around Nyssa’s neck, while her hand goes to her own hip and both of them laugh smugly. “It’s Olicity’s date day. Actually it’s your double date day!“

“OMG! Would you stop calling us that?” Felicity sighs, pointing a finger between the two ladies. ”We are just  _ friends.  _ Tonight is about helping out a friend while networking for the company. That’s all.”

A small bundle of nerves tightens in her tummy at the thought of the gala tonight and it reminds her  _ how _ anxious she is about going. Luckily, prepared as always, Felicity had ordered a dress for it the same day she got this outfit. She’s not nervous about going with Oliver, but is uneasy about the idea of maneuvering through the crowd and meeting new people, including the Queen family. Also, Oliver’s offer has been playing on her mind. She knows she’ll be okay once it happens, but it was hard for her to accept his help.

“Oh BTW,” she tries to add casually, but fails when she can’t look up from where she’s tracing the brim of her mug. “Oliver’s picking me up at 7.”

There’s a cough and suddenly Sara’s at her level, grabbing her hand, and Nyssa is magically nowhere to be seen.

“You’re going in a car with him?” Sara asks, dragging the chair out to sit down. The action causes Sara’s hand to let go of Felicity’s but it returns back in an instant when Sara settles in the chair.

Felicity swallows and nods, looking up to see a worried look on Sara’s face. “Well, he said Thea might come so we can meet before the chaos starts, but yes.”

Sara hums, then smiles. It’s wary like her tone. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“It’s not like it’s a thing for me to go in one. I like cars now,” Felicity lightly jokes with a small grin. She’s grateful that her best friend is wary about this development and is making sure she’s okay. It’s true, Felicity actually can be a passenger in cars without getting reminded of her accident, but usually it’s only with her mom and Sara. Never with new people. “Plus, Digg wants me to try accepting more help from others. So, that’s what I’m doing.”

“I know. And I’m very proud of you!” Sara approves, squeezing her hand before getting a weird look on her face. It’s like she’s amused but trying to stay serious. “I just... I’m making sure you’re aware that you’re getting in a  _ car _ with  _ Oliver. _ ”

Raising an eyebrow, Felicity crunches up her nose in a _so-what?_ type of manner. “Don’t worry, I’m sure I won’t be impregnated from being _that_ close to him.

The remark has Sara barking out a laugh, letting go of Felicity’s hand and swiping both hands over her face and shaking her head as giggles still fall over her lips.

“I don’t mean that! It’s just… I mean… How do I put this delicately?” Sara faux-ponders, eyes sparkling with mirth when she sees Felicity’s confused look. “Sometimes when we go over a pothole and you get  _ tense _ , you kinda, uh, take the other person’s hand hostage and… you’re very violent about it.”

“I do not!” Felicity denies, gasping at the accusation while Sara bites her lip to keep from laughing but fails as peals of laughter still ring out between them.

“You do, too!”   
  
“I. Do. Not!”

Felicity admits she gets flighty going over bumps, and maybe she does grab out for the other person to make sure everything’s okay, to make sure she’s feeling calm. But tenderly, like her hand is the softest blanket wrapping around the other person’s hand in a warm and safe hug. She doesn’t, like, attack them like she’s a madwomen and tie up their hand and demand cash for it if they ever want to see their hand again.

So, she has absolutely no clue what Sara’s talking about.

“Felicity,” Sara chokes out, taking a big breath to calm herself so she can continue without laughing. “The first time I hopped into the car with you and Donna, we went over a speed bump and you used your loud voice, calling me a  _ whimp _ and told me to stop acting like a girl on a first date and hold your hand like I  _ meant  _ it.”

Okay, so maybe she used to get a little extreme. She’s over that now, right?

“I concede to that happening,” Felicity admits sheepishly, chuckling at the memory before sobering up and looks to her best friend hunched over in her chair, still laughing. “But that’s not gonna happen tonight. We’re only going downtown, and it’s smooth sailing. Plus, I’m not that bad!”

Sara arches an amused eyebrow.

“Fine! I’ll just hold my own hand then.”

“And how’s that going to work out for ya?”

Dramatically clasping her two hands like a handshake, Felicity raises them up to show off and pokes out her tongue.

“All I’m saying is that you’re got to be prepared to take your  _ friendship _ with Oliver to the next level if you’re willing to ride in a car with him. He’s going to see the scary side of you!” Sara says, wiping the tears off her cheeks, then chuckling again.

Rolling her eyes playfully, Felicity groans.

“Ugh, just be home so you can help me get into the car without looking like a dork.”

⇄

**6:42 pm**

“Is it sitting right?” Felicity asks, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth before remembering she’s probably smudging her dark red lipstick and releasing it immediately.  She fluffs the matching dark-red lace of her tea-length dress.

She absolutely adores the dress. The off-the-shoulder, A-line dress fits her like it was made for her. The soft v-neckline of the tight bodice is modest but still shows a hint of cleavage. She loves the whole look, from the little bows on her light blush pumps to the low, elegant bun the hairdresser gave her. She feels like a moviestar going to the Emmys.

_ However,  _ the material of the skirt flows over the sides of her chair and threatens to drag on her wheels. Not having thought about that annoying detail when she ordered it, Felicity huffs at herself for forgetting. She wishes that she could say this is a one-off problem, but it isn’t. She constantly has to think about dress length and whether the bottom will drag or rip as Felicity wheels herself along. It bums her out that she has to keep this in mind, sometimes choosing her second or third option instead of her favourite. Despite not having the luxury of wearing what she truly wants on occasion, Felicity always makes it look good.

Besides, it’s not helping the sudden nerves that are rumbling through her veins as seven o’clock nears. It’s not like she’s hesitant to see Oliver. They just had their coffee chat after Digg’s session mere hours ago, although it had been quick because Oliver had to help Moria set up for tonight. They had laughed and joked about how excited Felicity was to see Oliver in his ‘natural habit’ amongst the rich and famous.

Felicity expects it’s more to do with the fact she has to give up a quiet Saturday night to go in a car that may show off the fact that her ‘I like cars’ act is less calm and more, uh, “violent” as Sara puts it. And the fact that Felicity will be mingling with people who could buy her entire apartment with loose change, or people who have actually been to the Emmys and don’t just pretend they have like certain wheelchair-bound woman she knows.

Good god, she’s going to be eaten like one of those poor deer that stumble into a lion’s den on the Discovery Channel.

“You’re good,” Sara assures her, grabbing Felicity's attention while draping the material of her dress towards the front of her seat before standing back to assess with a keen eye. “It shouldn’t rub but just keep an eye on it.”

Humming, Felicity does a final nervous check of the dress before making sure she has all the essentials in her purse, but stops dead when she hears a shutter of a camera phone go off.

“For Google’s Sake, Sara! You’re nearly as bad as my mom,” she insists, looking up only to get blinded by the flash of another photo. She’s sure that she is looking  _ fabulous _ in that one, like a stunned rabbit. Then it dawns on her as Sara seems to be texting in between photos. “Wait! Are you actually sending to them to Donna?! Oh my god....”

“What?” Sara shrugs casually, coming in closer to get another photo, signalling her to smile bigger. “She asked when we spoke earlier. Plus, Felicity Megan Smoak, you look stunning!”

Flattered, Felicity smiles as she blows a kiss towards her friend before tsking. “Thank you! But don’t think I’m letting go of the fact that you apparently talk to  _ my mother _ on a regular basis, missy! We’re gonna chat about this!”

Laughing, Sara shakes her head as she puts her phone down on the coffee table in front of the couch with a clang and plops herself down on the tan seat. “I’d expect nothing less.”

In that moment, Felicity takes a deep calming breath and fans her heated face, only slightly worried that her makeup is melting like the Wicked Witch of the West.

“Anxious or just nervous?” Sara asks with a soft voice. Felicity’s grateful that it’s just her best friend here. Nyssa has a tournament and even though she loves that ninja to bits, it’s nice to have Sara to all to herself tonight. Her best friend’s solo presence is helping calm her. If she had too much of an audience, she’d be totally freaking out by now.

“Both,” Felicity admits sheepishly, crunching her nose up while playing with the lace of her dress.

“Don’t be. You look amazing and you’re going to do great!”   


A knock at the door echoes through the space and both ladies look to the sound.

“Oh god! He’s early!” Felicity exclaims, frantically fixing her dress and flailing in general as she checks the time on her phone.

_ 6:54 p.m _ . Why is he six minutes early? Frack, frack, frack!! She’s not ready for this to start. Maybe she can send him out until seven? Surely, in those extra minutes, Felicity can develop a charming and poised nature like Audrey Hepburn in one of her movies.

They say Rome wasn’t built in a day, but damn if Felicity Smoak can’t change her whole attitude in six minutes.

“Breathe, babe. Breathe,” Sara calls over her shoulder on the way to the door, obviously picking up on her friend’s inner turmoil.

Felicity’s too busy being beside herself, hoping the involuntarily pull of her lips is a smile and not a wince, to hear the conversation flowing as Oliver and Sara enter the lounge area and come to stand by her near the coffee table.

“Hey Felicity, are you ready…” Oliver starts to greet her, sparkling blue eyes suddenly growing wide with an emotion Felicity can’t named as his words trail off into nothing.

“Wow,” he breathes, eyes shining as he smiles shyly and bends down to be on Felicity’s level, tenderly taking her hand. “You look beautiful.”

Yeah, she gets it. Oh, she totally gets it… because wow. She actually gulps. Like  _ gulps  _ gulps dramatically like a cartoon character. Oliver in a tight-fitting tux that looks suspiciously like one of the designer labels he wears at the office, is almost too much to bear. Everything about it is delicious. This is sooo much  _ better  _ in real life than reading about it in her novels. No wonder the heroines’ panties melt, because boy, Is. It. Hot. In. Here or what?

Catching herself, she subtly stops her free hand from fanning her face.  But she can’t stop the warm tingles from lighting low in her stomach as she gets a glimpse of black suspenders on the white crisp shirt underneath his jacket.

Okay, the suspender kink is real. And she definitely has it.

“So do you! I mean, yes, you are beautiful in a manly way. Men can be beautiful, I think. But I mean you look handsome.. Handsome as in—”

“Felicity…” Oliver whispers soothingly as he tugs lightly on her hand, immediately stopping her babble.

“Right. Sorry I was going off on a tangent, wasn’t I?” She winces as she bites her lip, looking up at him.

A beat passes where all they do is stare, blue on blue, until a cough from Sara breaks the moment. She’s pretty sure both of them have forgotten that the other blonde is in the room from Oliver’s sigh as he lets go of her hand and stands up.

“We should go. Thea’s waiting by the car.”

⇄

The Queens’ definition of a car is obviously different than the rest of the world’s because the black stretch limo that’s pulled up by the curb is definitely  _ not _ a car.

Actually, Felicity is a little uncertain about how she can get herself in and out of it without looking like the biggest loser.

“Sara?” She frowns, making a confused noise as her eyes narrow on it.

It seems like her best friend on on the same wavelength. She looks like she’s assessing a tough opponent in her matches as she replies with a short, “Yep.”

While Oliver tells them he’s going to talk to the driver about something, a slender girl wearing a gorgeous blue gown slips out from the limo, her cute brunette bob bouncing as she rushes over to greet them.

“Hey girls! I’m Thea,” she chirps, giving Sara a wave and then bending down to give Felicity a quick hug before pulling back and balancing impressively on her very high and dainty heels. “It’s so good to finally meet you, Felicity. Ollie has told me so much about you. You look stunning, by the way!”

“Hi Thea! Oh my god, thank you! You look amazing. And Oliver has spoken about you, too. Although, don’t worry —it’s all good. Compared to what you probably heard about me. I’m not  _ that _ bossy of an EA,” she jokes, giving the younger girl an awkward wave.

Despite the feeling of being overwhelmed bubbling up, her first impression of Thea Queen is that she’s a cool person. She’s treating Felicity like a normal human being, not a single edge of that wariness people tend to have when they first meet her. She has a feeling that she could be Thea’s friend one day.

Also, she really needs to get to the bottom of why Oliver keeps talking about her outside of work to his loved ones. Surely she’s not  _ that _ interesting during coffee. It’s very bizarre indeed.

“Ha,” Thea laughs, lightly tapping Felicity’s knee, despite her not being able to feel it. “We don’t talk about QC much, but we know who the bossy one is here!”

Giggling, Felicity watches Thea glare at her brother as he talks to the driver. She remembers Oliver saying something about that on the first day she met him. And just when she thinks she hasn’t seen that side of him lately, Oliver strides towards her and Thea with a soft determination.

“Here, let me take that for you,” Thea offers, grabbing Felicity’s purse like it’s second nature as she stands up with a kind smile and a wink. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure Ollie hasn’t rumpled your dress when we get out. Us girls have to stick together.”

Then it hits her. Holy Pluto, a very big thing is going to happen in a very subtle way and she can’t do anything about it. She didn’t think it’d happen like this. She thought she’d have more time to prepare for those…  _ massive  _ arms to wrap around her. It’s not like she’s super embarrassed or awkward about the idea but she just thought…

“Sara?” she blurts out, sounding half terrified, half shocked. Her wide eyes focus on the soft, encouraging smile of her friend.

“It’s okay,” Sara urges with the warm, soothing voice she uses in moments like these.

Moments like when a gorgeous man in a tux picks her up in his strong arms.

“C’mere,” Oliver murmurs, gently scooping Felicity up like she weighs nothing and holding her close to his chest as she puts a shaky hand on his shoulder to balance herself.

It’s calming how he doesn’t make a big deal of it, like he’s been carrying her forever. Instead of feeling uncomfortable or weirded out, Felicity feels nothing but safety in his arms. It also feels amazing. His hard muscles around her back fit snug against her — Felicity’s almost upset that she can’t feel the arm under her legs. The warmth of his chest mixed with  the scent of his aftershave is incredible. And for a second, she allows herself to enjoy it before putting her walls back up, blocking any feelings she may have about her boss from her heart. They are strictly friends.

She shivers when his thumb grazes her lower back as they make their way over to the car and he does it again in comfort, almost like he thinks she’s frightened that he might drop her.

“I gotcha,” Oliver whispers in her ear reassuringly, settling her lightly in the car.

The combination of his breath fanning across her ear and his palm travelling across her back when he pulls back has her shivering again, but this time there’s a faint heat rising in her veins and she blushes at the feeling, biting her lip shyly.

Shaking the feeling of what she thinks is the beginnings of lust, she puts her metaphorical friendship hat on. Lust or love isn’t allowed here. It only ends in embarrassment and heartbreak.

Suddenly, Sara is there saying her goodbyes but it’s clear that she sees Felicity’s overwhelmed and dazed look.

“Hey,” Sara calls, getting Felicity’s attention. “You’re doing good. Now have fun and don’t do anything I’d wouldn’t do!”

Laughing, because there’s not much that Sara Lance won’t do, Felicity accepts Sara’s wink and kiss on the cheek. Her door shuts, leaving her to moment by herself.

Doing the exercises that Digg taught her, Felicity takes a centering breath and puts a dazzling smile on her face as the other door opens and Thea climbs in to take a seat facing the window. The younger Queen is already chatting away as she gives Felicity her purse back, ignoring the faint sound of the trunk closing and Oliver sliding in beside Felicity seconds later.

With a silent signal from Oliver, the motor starts and the car slowly pulls away from the curb.

Leaving Felicity with only one thought, warning her.

_ Do. Not. Take. Oliver’s. Hand. Hostage _

⇄

**7:16pm**

It’s going well.

Like  _ too-good-to-be-true _ well. Felicity swallows nervously at the thought, making her feel like the human version of the smiling, sweat-beaded forehead emoji.  

It’s 12 minutes and 32 seconds into this smooth ride with no signs of Scary Felicity coming out to introduce herself. Oh yes, her brain is keeping a running count of this miracle because apparently it’s only matter of time until she turns into a terrifying ransom captor. Ever since Sara had mentioned it, Felicity has been super conscious about  _ not _ doing it and embarrassing herself in front of her boss and his sister.

But as she noticed before, it’s going okay. She’s been distracting herself by chatting to Thea while Oliver sits quietly with a weird look on his face as he watches them talk. It’s an easy distraction, too. She’s barely noticed the hum of the wheels along the road or the slight sway of the car in the cool night wind at all. Felicity is finding Thea sweet, funny and kinda sassy. Which she likes about the younger girl. It makes her what to know more about this feisty Queen.

“Starling U is cool and everything. And I love the Fashion Design aspects of it but everyone in the field is so competitive, ya know? All my classmates are ass—” Thea explains but is cut short by the shrill of her ring tone, huffing and rolling her eyes towards Oliver when she sees the caller ID. “Sorry, gotta take this. It’s Mother.”

Thea’s already answering as Felicity nods. There's a millisecond of silence where she hears the low shoosh of the wind along the car as city lights rush by, making goosebumps start to prickle on her arms at the thoughts that enter her mind. Shaking it off because this is no time to have a Felicity Moment and dwell on the past, she turns to Oliver to remind him that she has business cards in her purse to hand out if the occasion arises.

Then it happens. Her worse fears are confirmed and her world starts spinning. The limo wheel dips in and jumps out of a pothole. It’s barely anything to Thea who’s continuing on her conversation and Oliver who’s still staring out the window. They probably didn't feel a thing.

But to Felicity, it’s everything. She feels like she’s in a stunt car and just dove off a cliff, gliding in the air for hours, even if it is mere seconds and landing roughly on the other side. Her stomach drops so much, her mind immediately hazes and she feels so claustrophobic that she can’t breathe. She doesn't even realise that one hand reaches out to hold onto the side of the door until her knuckles are white, while her other hand latches onto Oliver’s, which is casually resting on the seat between them.

Also it involuntary makes her swear like a sailor.

“Holy shit! Jesus  _ fucking _ Christ!”

Her outburst echoes throughout the car, making Thea turn to her with an amused arched eyebrow while Oliver springs into action and slides over with his limp hand still curled into her tight, heavy hold.

“Felicity? Are you okay, honey?” he asks quietly like he doesn’t want to draw attention from Thea. Concern laces every word as worry fills his intense eyes and his free hand hovers over her cheek like he’s unsure if it’s okay to sooth her by his touch.

Felicity would have caught the nervous sigh Oliver makes after he says the term of endearment, almost like he had said it as a reflex, if it isn’t for the cool sweat forming on her brow and the embarrassment bubbling up within her.

“I’m fine,” she grits out just as quietly at her limp legs, not able to look at him yet. Her face is so hot that she knows she’s becoming the Wicked Witch like she feared before. Sarcasm fills her shaky voice as she speaks again. “Car rides are totally  _ awesome.” _

It’s Oliver’s turn to curse as his brows narrow into a frown. 

“Shit. Your accident, I’m so stupid,” he scoffs at himself, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry, Felicity!”

“It’s okay.” Felicity grimaces angrily. Not only she feels like an idiot but she hates the fact she doesn’t feel like she’s in control as her brain is still foggy and her breathing is labored. “I generally like cars now.”

Despite the situation, Felicity hears Oliver laugh quietly as he looks over to Thea to see her huffing into the phone, before leaning down to tell her, “Breathe.”

The action causes Oliver’s limp hand in her hold to flex, like he’s totally out of his depth to know whether to hold her hand back or not. Frustration swells up in her as she huffs.

It’s not that hard to hold another person’s hand back when they're literally squeezing the life force out of you.  _ Whimp.  _

“Not to sound rude or anything, Oliver. But you’re sucky at hand holding. Hold my hand like you mean it, geez!” Felicity snaps, looking at him for the first time, her eyes daggers.

She’s not expecting the boyish laughter that Oliver lets out, causing Thea to look over quickly then turn back, still talking in hushed tones.

“What?” Felicity snaps again. She don’t understand why this is funny. Quite frankly, this is a serious manner. His hand holding skills are shit.

“Did you just tell me to ‘hold your hand like I meant it’?” Oliver asks, sounding amused and shocked and a little frightened all at once as his shoulders shake in laugher.

_ Oh. My. God!  _ It finally hits her that she’s doing what Sara says she does. She has turned into the raging Scary Felicity so bad that she didn’t even know. An almighty blush spreads across her face, burning everywhere as she gasps and bites her lip. She can’t believe this is happening. What is wrong is her? And why can’t she pull away?

It’s like she’s frozen, as she tries to apologize, to speak, to do  _ anything _ but sit here and stare at her feet. But all she ends up doing is doing her Nemo impression. Like a literal loser.

She wishes the seat would swallow her whole and spit her out somewhere else. Preferably in her bed with the covers over her head so she can scream her lungs out. Finally she attempts to speak and untangles her hand so quickly that she nearly hits herself in the head with it.

“I-I’m s-so sorry, Oliver!” she stutters out, tipping her head back against the seat in horror. “I didn’t mean— oh god, Sara said I was  _ scary _ in cars!”

Leaning in like he’s about to tell her a secret, he says, “Well, I think I like  _ Scary _ Felicity.”

A beat passes where the only sound is Felicity nervously gigging, sounding like a banshee as Oliver reaches for her hand. 

"Better?" Oliver whispers into her ear, light chuckles still falling over his lips as his nose hovers so close that she can feel it barely skimming her hairline. He interlaces their fingers tightly before pulling back and smiling down at her.   
  
"Y-yes," Felicity gulps, tingles radiating from her palm where hers meets his, squeezing harder before turning her flushed face to hide and look out the window. Although her heart is pounding and she thinks she’s in an alternative universe where she’s having  _ moments _ with a guy or something, it’s actually calming her nerves to have Oliver there holding her hand. "Thank you."

Seriously though, is she really having  _ moments _ with a guy now? Like she’s the lead in one of her novels where it’s building up to something and it’s the moment where Felicity yells into her empty room at night, ‘OMFG THEY’RE GOING TO FREAKING KISS SOON!’

Surely not, right? maybe this is a phase or maybe she’s imagining it? Or maybe she’s read too many books and she has a disease where she starts to believe her life is a romance novel? That’s a real thing, right? Because if she’s actually having moments with Oliver, she’s gonna freak out because her heart isn’t scampering to hide...

"So where was I?" Thea asks, hanging up her phone and tucking it back into her purse and turning to the duo. “Oh yeah, my classmates are complete  _ assholes.” _

Not even blinking an eye at the sight in front in her,  Thea acts like her brother being pressed up against and holding his executive assistant's hand is a completely everyday, normal thing.

“So, who’s ready for the dragon lady? Moira Queen is in a  _ mood _ tonight…”

⇄

**7:28pm**

It’s weird to have someone else rather than Sara to fluff her outfit but Thea does it so naturally and with such childlike enthusiasm that Felicity can’t help but smile and let her wrestle with the length of the dress. Thea rants about how Moira’s passive aggressive call was to inform them that she expected the siblings to be there to greet the first guests alongside their mother.

“Be easy on her, it’s probably just nerves,” Felicity reasons lightly, smiling and giving a nod in thanks for the dress fixing before looking to Oliver for reassurance, but he only shrugs and makes a noncommittal sound.

“Moira Queen doesn’t do nerves,” Thea scoffs, falling into step with Felicity as she wheels herself to the entry door of the underground carpark. “She’s stuck in a time warp where she thinks we’re the same people as before dad died. But we’re not, are we Ollie?”

The look on Oliver’s face is torn. It’s like he wants to say something, to tell her be quiet but also give her a smirk in agreement. Instead, he rolls his lips together and rushes towards the door to hold it open.

“Whatever time warp you might think she’s stuck in, we both agree that you’re still not allowed to drink. So don’t try to con some poor idiot into buying you one like last time, Speedy,” he warns with humour in his voice, ushering both ladies through the door into the grand hallway of the  luxurious ballroom and watching intently to make sure Felicity can get over the tiny lip in the doorway.

Felicity giggles when Thea huffs and gives the biggest dramatic eye roll known to man as the trio linger in the middle of the hall that totally could be a castle — if it really wanted to be one —  with it’s huge painting lining the tall walls and the gold and red hues that colour the entire area.

It’s like the younger woman doesn’t care that they’re surrounded by a sea of bodies, which is mostly formed by Starling’s most famous elite and well known celebrities from around the country.  Some of the sightings causes Felicity’s jaw to drop like she’s catching flies and the nerves in her stomach to rumble.

Oh my god, she’s pretty sure she seen the gorgeous tech master, Bruce Wayne from Wayne Enterprises.  _ Swoon.  _ Even if his new prototype’s specs are wrong.

“Ugh, stop calling me that!” Thea whines with a pout. “You’re the worst. I’m 18, you know? I’m an adult!” 

Oliver just raises an eyebrow before signalling them to follow him toward the hall entrance, parting the way like he’s some sort of superhero.

With one final look around to take in the elegance of it all, making her feel slightly uneasy at how small she feels sitting in her chair while people mingle and rush around her, Felicity catches a flash out of the corner of her eye and notices that there’s a red carpet entrance filled with media and paparazzi.

“Huh, it seems we have missed the fanfare,” Felicity says to no one in particular, frowning in confusion as she follows the Queens. She would have thought that that kind of thing is expected of the duo, seeing that they are plastered all over the tabloids regularly.

Her frustration slowly turns into anxiety as a wave of  claustrophobia floats over her while she zips in and out between standing people, her only navigation guide a glimpse of the back of Oliver’s head and Thea in front of her.

“Oh thanks for that! These entrances are a pain in the ass. Everyone calling your name, expecting you do a million things at once,” Thea explains over her shoulder, not so subtly pushing a man when he steps back into Felicity’s path. “But Ollie thought it would have been unfair to put you through that, so we went through the back way.”

It feels like her heart stops, both in a good and bad way, while Felicity nervously twitches her nose at that. The good is how unbelievably thoughtful this man is. Oliver always knows how to make her feel at ease without having to ask. It’s like he’s one step ahead, making sure she’s getting through life with a smile on her face. Words can’t describe how great it is to have a friend like that. She thought she was lucky with Sara and Nyssa, but now she’s got Oliver, too.

The bad is how her heart is starting to sway and thump on the stricken walls around it, leaving little cracks in the strong structure, like it’s curious to see what will happen if it peeks out through the holes instead of hiding away in the dark. 

She’s not sure if she can ignore what she’s been avoiding for much longer and that’s  _ fracking _ terrifying.

Swallowing down the recently new rebellious feelings, because she’s the Queen of Denial and she demands her feelings be banished or be killed a brutal death, she pulls up and stops between Thea and Oliver at the threshold of the massive French wooden doors to the ballroom. She smiles up at Oliver as he winks playfully, referencing the first day they meet before stepping over the threshold and smiling.

“Ready to meet  _ Moira _ ?”

⇄

The ballroom is as elegant as the hallway, but it’s more subtle in its grandness. The walls are white with gold trimmings along with the shiny polished floorboards that gives it more of a modern look. White-clothed tables are scattered around the room, while the white linen curtains float lightly in the gentle breeze that’s coming in from the numerous floor-to-ceiling windows along the right-hand wall.  Through the open windows she could see a balcony littered with fairy lights.

“Whoa…” Felicity breathes, taking in the room, noticing there’s a band on stage setting up as Thea picks up a glass of champagne from a tray of a passing waiter. Oliver gives his best disapproving big brother look and grabs the glass from Thea and passing it to Felicity with a smirk. “Your mom sure knows how to gala.”

Oliver lets out a hearty chuckle as Felicity downs the champagne to calm her anxious nerves, leaving a tiny bit and passing it to Thea with a wink. She smiles when Thea takes a sip while raising a eyebrow at her brother.

“Do you want to know her secret?” Oliver asks cheekily as he bends down to Felicity’s level, his hand coming to rest next to hers on the rim of the wheel.

“Sure.”

“She bosses her only son and daughter around, along with the hired help.”

“So are you saying this was all you?”

“Basically.”

“I always knew you were a secret interior designer when you started on the diner!”

“Uh, guys, as much as I want to stand here and see how far you take this flirt session,” Thea interrupts with an amused, knowing look etched on her face while Felicity blushes and Oliver rubs the back of his neck as he stands, “But there’s a Dragon Lady alert. She’s coming our way and she’s bringing her pet dragon with her!”

Following the direction to where Thea is now pointing, Felicity sees Moira Queen walking over to them, looking like royalty in a cream dress with her hair set perfectly.. A familiar-looking face tags behind in a slinky black dress and come-hither eyes.

Is that… yep, it’s her.

Helena.  _ Tantric Sex Helena. _

Felicity’s anxiety spikes at the thought of meeting Oliver’s mother and a supermodel. She’s not even good at meeting normal strangers, let alone such woman like the ones before her. Oh Google, she’s totally going to say something inappropriate or even worse — tell Helena to go have sex with her boss in a supply closet or something — and embarrass herself and Oliver. She subtly wipes her clammy hands on her dress before resting them back on their default spot on her wheels. 

“Welcome, my beautiful children,” Moira greets her kids with a kiss on the cheek and with such poise that Felicity thinks she should curtsey, but stops herself when a hint of sarcasm rings through Moira’s proper tone. “Glad to see you finally showed up.”

“Mom,” Oliver warns, before he bends down again to Felicity and caresses her hand softly while introducing her. “Mom, this is Felicity Smoak. My friend and EA. You’ve spoken to her a few times on the phone.”

Nearly missing her cue because she’s too busy smiling at Oliver and focusing how he said  _ friend _ first, Felicity extends her hand and gives herself an internal fist pump for sounding so confident and professional when she says, “Hello Mrs. Queen, it’s so good to finally meet you.” 

She should have known this would happen; not everybody is accepting and friendly when they see the evidence that she’s in a chair. She understands that it can be uneasy for some people and they don’t know how to deal with it. It’s only natural, she supposes, if people aren’t used to it. Gosh, her own mother bawled the first time Felicity was placed in a wheelchair. But it doesn’t stop the hurt and anxiety flashing through her chest as she pulls her hand back while Moira just stares and hums at her before grabbing Helena’s shoulder and pushing her towards her son.

“Look who graced us with her presence tonight. Isn’t it splendid that Helena could make it, Oliver?”

Apparently Oliver didn’t get the memo about how people can be jerks when they first meet her because she feels the tension rolling off him in waves. He stands up to his full height and his beautiful blue eyes harden as he stares at his mother. Thea isn’t far behind as she takes a step forward and throws a killer look at Moira.

“Mother!” Oliver grits out, his voice low and deep causing Felicity to flinch. But he’s cut off by Helena.  
“Did you miss me, Ollie?” the brunette purrs, her hands pawwing at him like he’s her prey.

Of course, Tantric Sex Helena wants to have tantric sex with Oliver. She’s probably planning some sort of impossible move that makes him pass out from coming so hard in her head right now. No wonder Moira is shipping this like it’s her OTP — Helena has probably promised her to give birth to the rightful heir of the Queen family name.

Okay, she’s really needs to stop comparing the Queens to all the royal dramas she watches.

A gagging sound from Thea pulls her back to the situatIon, just in time to see Oliver retreat from the Paws Of Sex, come to stand behind her chair and put a soft hand on her shoulder.

Felicity would burst out laughing if this moment wasn't so awkward already. Why is the Army soldier seeking coverage behind the little lady in the wheelchair? Like, what can she do to save him from the big bad supermodel? Take a bad picture of Helena and post it on the internet? She highly doubts there’s a bad photo of Helena. Ever.

“Helena, this is Felicity,” Oliver introduces her firmly, the tone contrasting with the gentle squeeze he does to Felicity’s shoulder. The action makes her smile as, once again, she extends a hand.

“Hello! It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Felicity greets her brightly.

She’s met with a look from both ladies like she’s blowing holes in their ship.

Wait! She’s blowing holes in their ship? She doesn’t think she is. She and Oliver are friends, that’s all. Although they did hold hands in the car and she’s pretty sure he called her honey. But friends do that, right? Yeah, friends definitely do that. The low tummy roll she’s feeling right now is probably nerves due to being in a crowded space anyway. Not the other tummy roll feeling when you like someone. Nope. So, she couldn’t be blowing holes in their ship. But when she glances over to Thea for, she doesn’t know, unspoken guidance, anything — all she sees is Thea smirking like, ‘ _ that’s my fucking ship!’ _

Ugh, now all she can picture is Moira Queen dressed like Captain Jack Sparrow. That’s a sight she does not need to have, and she shakes her head to get rid of it.

Also, WHY IS EVERYONE SHIPPING HERE? She swears to Microsoft that if Sara released her stupid Olicity™ to the tabloids, she’s gonna kill her. She’s so confused and out of her element right now.

Well, at least Helena flushes her confusion down the toilet and turns it into white hot anger when the model opens her mouth.

“Oh hi!” Helena speaks in a loud, high-pitched, condescending voice. “Aww, look at you, you’re adorable with your dress matching your wheelchair. I bet you’re super excited that Oliver allowed you be his date!”

Felicity has to put up with a lot after her accident: rude looks, ignorant comments and even people acting like she doesn’t exist. But there’s one thing she hates the most. Hates it with all her might. People treating people in chairs like they are kids. It’s the most patronising and degrading thing to happen to her. She's a 23 year old woman, with a life and a job. This stereotype of all people in chairs having an intellectual disability makes her sick. She wants to protect both sides of the equation as much as she can because  _ no one  _ should be treated like they're less than anybody. 

“While you don't know me,” Felicity says in a sickening sweet tone and a smile to match, even though her blood is at boiling point and her hands are trembling in her lap, “I can say that I've got an IQ of 170, so I could be the CEO to ten of the companies here tonight and still get a job at NASA. However I was lucky enough to get a job at the  _ amazing  _ QC working alongside Oliver and he didn't  _ allow  _ me to be here. I was honoured that he  _ invited  _ me to help promote and network on behalf of him and the company. Oh BTW, he also  _ invited  _ me so that your tantric sex paws would stay away!”

By the end of her speech, Felicity breath is labored and her cheeks are red, not just by the anger she feels but also embarrassment as she winces when she realizes what she just said.

Holy fracking Pluto! Did she really need to blurt out the last part? Now everyone gonna think she's a sex maniac or something..

Needing to leave, she ignores the ridiculously shocked face on Helena, a gasp from Moira and Thea’s, ‘ _ Holy shit! That was amazing!’  _ and starts to wheel herself far far away. 

“Excuse me, I see Bruce Wayne. And while he's very good looking when he speaks tech, someone needs to tell him that his latest specs are rubbish.”

With her head held high, Felicity wheels herself as fast as she can until her arms burn, pretending to make eye contact with the man, but really she's heading to the bathroom to lock herself in and hyperventilate for the rest of the night. 

She doesn't get far, as suave Italian shoes block her path and she knows exactly who they belong to. 

“Fe-li-ci-ty,” Oliver calls as he bends down in front of her and lifts her chin with a crooked finger when she doesn't look up from his shoes. “You seem to take Helena down a notch or two.”

“Is that judgement I hear?” She asks with narrowed eyes, residual anger still lingers in them. Her chin tingles with warmth from where his finger is still resting.

Shaking his head with one of his gorgeous dimpled smiles as his eyes shine brightly, Oliver chuckles.

“No. It's pride. C’mon, you deserve a drink after that.” 

⇄

**10:18pm**

There comes a time in every girl’s night where she’s content with hiding herself away at an empty corner table, exhausted from being on alert, stuffing her face with a plate of fancy, miniature appetisers and watching the cute old couples sway to the soft melody of the band.

(Let’s be honest, the old couples are ridiculously adorable and it’s soothes her secret romantic self to know that happily ever afters don’t just exist in her novels. BTW, she’s totally shipping the couple who are laughing as they talk and sway around the dance floor).

And reflect on the nights events.

That time is now for Felicity.

Okay, firstly: What the heck was she thinking when she went ‘grrr’ on Helena??

She winces at the memory as she munches on another bite-sized burger, looking out to the sea of dancers. She had blushed and tried to apologize for her behavior when Thea had rush over said she was such a badass and told her Helena had it coming. Oliver was a little quieter about the situation, almost giving her a sad smile and told her not to worry about it. She’s still worried that her actions made him feel awkward.

Secondly, It’s been pretty cool to mingle, actually, promoting and networking for QC with other companies. Something that she had been  _ not  _ looking forward to all. Maybe it’s discussing work makes her feel more at ease rather than being in a social situation. She guesses it’s common ground of business with same-minded people that takes away the anxious vibes she has about meeting new people. She even scored herself a business card from Walter Steele, who’s very impressed with her detailed knowledge in business and tech. He told her it was for any needs that QC or her personal professional endeavours in the future might have. Turns out, he’s the CEO of the National Bank and friends of the Queens  _ — _ a very shocked but impressed Oliver informs her that Walter hardly ever gives out his card.

Which is awesome, plus it’s a bonus that she met a British guy with a cool accent. And yes, maybe she had to stop herself staying ‘ _ cheerio’ _ and making Dr Who references.

Thirdly, what is going on with her usually timid heart? It’s like it doesn’t want to scream and cower somewhere dark when she keeps having moments with Oliver. Now, it’s like that neighbour that everyone has who spys out the window to see what the fuss is all about before drawing the blinds so fast to make it seem like they were never there. She doesn't understand, just last month her heart was running for the hills at the sight of a sweaty Oliver but now, she can hold his hand without freaking out... Okay, freaking out a little.

She has no idea what’s going on but she’s knows that there’s something about Oliver that’s making her bolder than she’s ever been since the accident.

Speaking of the devil, Felicity smiles as Oliver pulls a chair up beside her and pops an appetizer from her plate into his mouth before resting his arm behind her on the back of her wheelchair, his fingertips brushing her neck as his arm slides across her bare shoulders. She barely holds a shiver back as she shifts to face him.

“So, Bruce Wayne huh?” Oliver states casually as he taps her shoulder in jest. There’s an odd timbre in his voice when he asks, “He’s the competition?”   
  


A laugh stumbles from her red lips, shaking her head to veto the allegation. Felicity fidgets with her dress, making sure it sits perfectly even if she hasn’t moved in a while.

“Ha, I meant what I said. He’s pretty talking tech but there’s a few faults in the way he thinks.”

“But he sure did take a shine to you even though you basically told him straight up his designs were nonfunctional,” Oliver recounts, shrugging before taking a big breath like the next thing he’s about to say is bothering him. “So, you’re not leaving QC any time soon?”

Felicity smiles and dips her head at the memory of her blatantly telling Bruce to step up because she —  _ technically _ a mere EA to the CEO in the business world’s eyes — had found at least five errors in his latest specs released. To the guy’s credit, he had hummed thoughtfully and then offered her a job to fix those errors on the spot.

She nervously tucks a fallen tendril of hair behind her ear and bites her lip at how Oliver is bothered at the thought that she might leave the company. There’s no way she’d do that. Queen Consolidated has been her dream job since she could remember. Sure, she’s not in the position she wanted but her boss makes up for it.

Also, she wouldn’t be caught dead in Gotham. It has bad reputation for crime and a serious bat infestation.

“Nah, QC is where I’m meant to be.” Felicity says earnestly, looking up to meet his eye and placing a reassuring hand on his left knee  _ — _ hoping that the uncertainty that is portrayed on his face will go away when he sees the truth in her crystal blue eyes.

“Good.”

A lull in the conversation floats between them as they both take the time to watch the couples dance as the song changes. It’s Oliver who breaks the silence as he turns to face Felicity fully, making his hand still on the back of her chair slip so it’s resting on her upper back and leaving goosebumps in it’s wake. The sad smile from before is back and Felicity can’t feel anything but the guilt from before rise up in her throat. She knew she has made him feel awkward.

“Look, I’m sorry about before. Mom and Helena, they _ — _ ” Oliver starts to say softly, his thumb unconsciously rubbing the skin where it lays on her bare back.

“Hey, don't apologise! It is what it is,” Felicity insists matter of factly, shrugging as her thumb matches the same movements on his knee.

“But it’s unfair on you. You don’t deserve to be treated like that.”   


“Unfortunately, that’s how the world works sometimes.” She shrugs again, realising that her hand is still on his knee and gulping as she immediately pulls back like she’s been burnt.

It’s true, the world is a cruel mistress sometimes. There’s nothing that Felicity can do about it but plow through with a smile on her face and know that she’s worth something when life occasionally gets her down. Felicity grins as her mom’s motto of ‘ _ Every day is a great day! _ ’ rings through her head as silence takes over again.   


“Question? If  _ Bruce _ asked you to dance, would you accept?” Oliver asks playfully after a few minutes. He smirks as he looks at the blonde next to him and taps her shoulder again to get her full attention.

A very unlady snort leaves Felicity as heavy laughter bubbles up and shakes her body, making Oliver’s arm fall from her back. Dancing in a chair is not a thing. It’s literally impossible. 

_ One _ , you can’t even get close to the person and  _ two _ , you end up just swaying standstill with your arms stretched out while the other person moves awkwardly. It’s like watching a really geeky guy dance with the hottest girl in school at prom. Except with wheels.

Seriously what is Oliver playing at here?

“Oh god, no! The idea of dancing, or being ask to dance died when these things stopped working,” she explains while pointing to her legs, laughing, and rolling her eyes. “Plus the logistics are impossible...”

“Okay, well, I suggest we go and get some fresh air. He’s coming over.” Oliver states, his smirk gets bigger as he points towards a man in a dapper suit who’s making a beeline to where they are sitting before jumping up and signalling to follow him out onto the balcony.

⇄

“Oh wow, it’s gorgeous.” Felicity breathes as she rolls out and captures the sight before her. The soft breeze plays with the ends of her red dress as she comes to a stop at the wrought iron barricade rail, taking in the city lights shining in the dark summer’s night. The moon high in the sky highlights the sparkling fairy lights that dangle from the roof  _ —  _ giving a soft, whimsical feel as the music inside floats out and surrounds the space.   
  
“Yeah,” Oliver murmurs, resting his forearms on the top of the rail. But instead of looking out at the city like she thinks he is, Felicity feels an intense stare on her and she turns to find Oliver’s beautiful eyes taking her in. The dull moonlight along with the warm glow of the fairy light makes them shine brighter as shadows form across his stubble, only showing a hint of his smile. The mixture of it all: the look, his handsome suit and the tension in the air has Felicity shivering despite it’s not really cold outside right now.

“Are you cold?” he asks softly, using a voice that Felicity barely registers now as the one he only uses with her. But before she can deny, Oliver’s shrugs out of his jacket and draps it over her shoulder and folds his sleeves up just below his elbows. Watching, Felicity pulls the lapels closer around her and nods in thanks before biting her lip as Oliver bends down to her level, oblivious that his scent is invading her from all angles in the very best way.

“Felicity?”   


“Hmm?”   


“Would you like to dance?” Oliver asks with a dimpled smile and an extended hand, eyes incredibly kind as he waits for an answer.

Her mind frazzles as she comprehends the question. Good  _ lord _ , Oliver Queen is asking her to dance. She can’t. She doesn’t have the ability. But here he is, asking her anyways. Like it’s normal. Like she’s just a woman and he’s just a man asking for a dance. And if that doesn't make her mind explode or her heart race a million times faster than it should, well, there’s something really wrong with her.

However, her timid heart is oddly calm, casually knocking on it’s self made walls like it’s trying to tell her something. It’s unnerving that it’s not begging her to run or hide. The only thing grounding her in this moment is the  kaleidoscope of butterflies that are taking flight in her stomach.

If this was one of her novels, she would be giddy and screaming at the fact that heroine is starting to feel something for the hero.

But it’s not one of her novels. It’s real life.  _ Her life. _

“What?! No, no, no. I can’t, Oliver! I said the logistics _ — _ ” Felicity stresses, her voice shakes as she blushes furiously, looking anywhere but at him.

“Fuck the logistics,” he replies huskily, his voice is deep and low. His extended hand never wavers as he continues to wait.

Taking a risk because his voice is so sexy and alluring for its own sake, she looks up to find nothing but longing and adoration and honestly shining in his eyes, making her hands shake and her stomach roll with nervous excitement. It’s the tipping point for her. She can trust him to take the lead and make sure that awkwardness won’t show up.

She carefully places her hand in hers, trying to ignore the spark of electricity she feels when their fingers brushes along each other. Smiling when he gives her a wink, Felicity watches in curiosity as Oliver stands up and puts his free hand on the back of her chair without breaking eye contact and his hand firmly holding hers.

Then he spins her and twirls her smoothly and fluidly in time with the slow, sultry beat of a cover of ‘ _ Dancing in the Dark’ _ that plays in the background. Somehow each time, he meets her gaze and doesn’t let go of her hand when she turns to face him and it makes Felicity giggle and Oliver smile widely.

Suddenly  _ —  _ under the moon and surrounded by twinkly lights  _ —  _ it dawns on Felicity what her heart is hesitantly trying to tell her. But instead of feeling giddy or excited, she just feels a big bunch of nerves with a pinch of fear.

 

Because…

 

she’s developing

 

very strong

 

_ feelings _

 

for

 

Oliver Queen.

 

_ Holy. FRACK! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song that Olicity dances to :) :
> 
> Dancing In The Dark - Laura Marling and Eddie Berman  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ul0aWaPAkak


	7. It's A Cruel Thing, You'll Never Know All the Ways I Tried

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Hiders!
> 
> New chapter, new art! Thanks to the amazing Jen for the numerous stunning banners! 
> 
> I still get overwhelmed by ALL the LOVE and SUPPORT I get from you guys. You are seriously AMAZING! I write for you. Hide Away keeps growing because of every reader here. I cannot thank you enough! <3
> 
> For the gorgeous people who sent me well wishes - bless your hearts and thank you! Life got a little rocky there for a long while but it's getting better each day now... especially that I'm going overseas next week for 3 weeks!!!
> 
> So this will be the last chapter for a month or so! I'm really sorry, I don't want to make any promises to write while I'm away - I just don't know if I'll get time!
> 
> With that said...
> 
> *rolls to the airport and gets on a plane to another country and hides from Hiders while on holiday* I'M SO SORRY FOR THE ENDING, DON'T HATE ME, REMEMBER I LOVE YOU!!!
> 
> A special thanks to the super Christine and Madalyn for their super betaing!  
> Emm Xx

* * *

  

**Monday 17th June, 2013 - 10:37am**

_Shut up, sit down!_

Felicity blatantly screams the mantra at herself for the millionth time this morning — the same one that’s kept repeating in her mind since the gala — as the overwhelming feelings bubble up from the pit of her stomach. Another wave of the _feels_ floods her as she watches Oliver gently place a coffee right in front of her. He takes a second to give her a small, kind smile before going back to his huffy self, pacing up a storm in front of his desk with the cutest frown she’s ever seen as hold music from the IT department blasts on speaker phone.

Her boss’s issue is that the wait for the IT helpdesk is taking longer than usual, especially when it seems that the internal servers have woken up on the wrong side of the bed today, causing every program they have to glitch for no reason. While Felicity’s issue is less about the IT department and more about how she has woken up to her _feelings_ for said boss. Well, more like friend than boss now. Like, really _good_ friend.  A really good friend that dances with her like it’s the least awkward thing to spin a wheelchair with one hand. A really good friend that causally links his fingers with hers on the late-night ride home like it’s his sole job to keep her calm, and places a lingering kiss on her cheek when he says good night at her front door.

A really good friend that makes her timid heart do cartwheels and her veins hum whenever she thinks about him, and it only tenfolds when she sees him, despite how many times she stubbornly pushes her feelings down within the 48 hours of willingly admitting they exist.

The worst thing? Her feelings had hit her so hard, like a brightly lit lightsaber to the face that she hasn’t had the time to rein them in fully. They are just _there._ Taunting her. Waving mockingly in her mind’s eye like, _‘Hiya Lis, did you hear? Your lonesome, boring self LIKES OLIVER QUEEN! Ha, good luck with that!’_

_Ugh._

She would have thought it would be easier to control them, put them in a box and throw away the key. Because she’s _never,_ ever going to act on them. Ever. Nope, she’s going to swallow them whole, pray to god that no one finds out and hope her heart doesn't get ripped to shreds in the progress. The pain from its last tear still lingers.

Logically speaking — she is a lady of logic and sense, duh! — Felicity knows all signs from Saturday night point to Oliver maybe reciprocating those feelings. However, she’s not willing to take that risk. She knows how this works. Dating her is a novelty, it’s all lovey-dovey until it’s not. It gets old, and difficult, and finally he’ll leave. So, why start something when she’s just gonna end up alone anyway? Plus, Oliver deserves better. Better than her. Someone who can give him wild, hot sex, or can hold his hand walking down the street. Someone who can make her own coffee and carry it. Definitely someone his mother likes.

Someone who is whole and perfect.

That someone _isn’t_ her. 

So, why didn’t her feelings have the decency to creep up on her like a cool summer breeze? Nice and easy so she could cope with them like the sensible young woman that she is?

‘ _Fuck the logistics...’_

Oh, that’s why. He basically told her to throw every sensible thing she knows out the window — take the leap and put her trust in him to catch her.

The stupid, charming man.

She blushes at the memory, biting her lip as her fingers absentmindedly drum on the edge of the keyboard in sync to the beat of the on-hold music, only stopping when an abrupt, automatic, “Your call is important to us. One of our qualified technicians will be with you shortly...” echoes in the space surrounding them.

“This is ridiculous! We’ve been on hold for nearly a hour! What’s taking them so long? I’m the CEO, Felicity. Are you sure there’s not another number I can use?” Oliver groans, combing a hand through his ruffled hair as he turns to start another length of his desk while his other hand plays with his dog tags that hang along his skinny mauve tie, a rare occasion that they’re on display.

Not that Felicity minds. None at all, she thinks as she subtly watches him with a smile.

“Oh my god, Oliver,” she begins with a bemused huff but irritation starts to creep into her tone. Her hands have a mind of their own as they tidy the piles of paper on his desk surrounding where she sits. “You’re not Batman. You don’t have your own crisis hotline.”

“It would be probably be easier if I were. At least something would be done then,” Oliver retorts, coming to a standstill, his eyes narrowing on her as chagrin paints his figures.

“Oliver!”

“Sorry,” he apologizes, sighing before taking a centering breath and resuming his walk. The tags jingle as he takes a rushed step towards the phone when the music pauses, only start a new song. “I want everything be perfect before I leave for Central City on Thursday morning. I don’t want you to have to deal with any problems while I’m gone.”

She watches him stride impatiently, letting his thoughtfulness wash over her like a security blanket. They both know Oliver doesn’t want to go to Central City, with them just finding a good rhythm in managing the company, but the board insisted it would be nice for the new CEO to visit the nearby branches. It was only meant to be for a night, so Felicity had promised to hold down the fort. However, the Central City office’s president decided to host a dinner on Friday night, meaning Oliver wouldn’t be back until Saturday. Instead of feeling the weight of being in the office two whole business days by herself, Felicity can only concentrate on the disappointment that swirls in her tummy over the fact that Oliver’s going to miss their coffee date this week.

“I’m grateful for that, and it will. But if you just let me go down to the basement —” she tries to placate him, sighing as she itches her eyebrow in annoyance.

Good lord, if her mom thinks she’s stubborn, wait until she meets Oliver. Not that her mom will meet his tenacious ass anytime soon, nor will she have the reason to. They’ve been arguing about this wayyyyy before they were put on hold, and like that call, it seems to be getting nowhere.

Why does he have to be so… fired up? Oh god, is _pigheadedness_ an addition to the ‘Felicity’s weird list of things she finds attractive now?’ 

“Felicity, I know if anybody within this company could fix this in seconds, I’d bet on you every time. But it’s not fair for you to have that responsibility when I thought we had a whole department who could be on top of this!” Oliver quips, raising his hands in the air angrily for emphasis.

“They are, and they’re doing the best that they can. You have to remember that they’re understaffed at the moment and have gone through a major change, Oliver. Kelly just went on maternity leave and Barker has taken over her Head of IT role as well as maintaining his own. Give them some leeway.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“I _am_ right!” Felicity says pointedly, arching an eyebrow as she wheels herself back from the desk with her tablet resting on her lap and makes her way over to where Oliver is looking out the window now, wearing a scowl on his face. Getting his attention, Felicity grabs his hand and gently squeezes it until he looks down. Her voice is soft and soothing as she strokes her thumb over his knuckles once. “Hey, let me help...”

“Fine,” he mumbles, his blue orbs softening as he bends down to her level, their hands still joined.

“Thank you!” Felicity beams, letting go to give him a pat on the shoulder before pushing herself towards the elevator as she continues to talk excitedly. “It shouldn’t take me very long to fix, like 10 minutes tops; my guess is the hardware.. Or maybe it’s the actual connection? Anyway, you should come to check on me if I’m not back in a hour because I might be —”

“Pulling everything apart and rebuilding it Felicity style?” Oliver finishes for her, smirking as he stands and follows her like a puppy.

 _Frack_ , she forgets that he’s seen her pull her iPhone apart numerous times when it crashes randomly, only to build it better than before while she talks to herself about how Apple techs are stupid imbeciles who can’t design a phone to save their lives.

She just gives him a look that should scare him into silence or submission or something. But it doesn’t, it only makes him give her the stupidest, dopiest, teasing smile she’s ever seen, even if it doesn’t match the huskiness in his voice.

“Fe-li-ci-ty?”

The tiniest shiver runs up her spine and she swallows the newly familiar sensation of pesky feelings trying to escape.

“Hmm?”

She’s never been so thankful to hear the ding of the doors arriving. But something makes her look over to see Oliver still wearing that stupid smile with his hands in his pockets before getting into the elevator.

“I’ve had _experience_ seeing that side of you.” The way he says it, it’s almost like he’s _honored_ to seen some of the wackiest sides of her personality. “And, let me say: Tech Genius Felicity has _nothing_ on Scary Felicity.”

Her mind blanks, her cheeks flush profusely and all she can do is blink as her heart somersaults until it lodges into her throat. Her veins hums warm as a nervous laugh bubbles out of her.

Once again, the mantra is back — reminding her feelings to…

_Shut up, sit down!_

**↹**

**11:08am**

“It’s been, like, 25 minutes. Haven’t you got any faith?” Felicity calls out when she feels a presence enter the room. Her tone has a bite to it although there’s a hint of flirtation laced throughout her words. Despite the slight horror that she might just have _flirted_ a little bit, because when did she flirt these days? — she’s too distracted to even bother looking up from the diagnostic testing she’s doing on the disk utility from her tablet, biting her lip in deep concentration. 

(Let’s be real here, it had taken her 5 milliseconds to work out that the server’s hardware had been on the fritz, and another 20 minutes to pull it apart and update the pieces from the spare pile that’s been left on the table by the front. Obviously, an intern had tried but failed. Poor soul.

Now, the hard part. Make sure everything runs in sync…

And that could be _hours_ if she makes one single mistake with the connection _._ )

Feelings or not, there’s something about Oliver that makes her yearn to keep up the fun banter that they always to seem to have.

“I have every faith in you to save the company from retreating back to the days without email.”

A different, yet still familiar voice makes her jump in shock, immediately dropping her tablet onto her lap and spinning her wheels around.

“Mr. Barker! I-I’m so sorry. I thought you were—” she stammers, shaking her head in embarrassment. “Nevermind. What are you doing here?”

The older man smiles kindly as he makes his way over to her, his bright purple bowtie looking out of place in the dull, cool server room. Felicity has always been fond of the man, as he has _always_ been supportive and listened to what she had to say in board meetings when the discussion had come to a standstill. While other department heads had dismissed her, no doubt because they had seen her as a secretary or just a young lady in a wheelchair who didn’t have a clue, Mr. Barker had praised her ideas, and sometimes encouraged her to share her vast knowledge of technology and the company itself.

“I was coming to see if I could fix these myself, seeing as the rest of the team is overwhelmed with calls, but it looks like you beat me to the punch,” he says cheerily, but stress clearly pinches his features as he sighs deeply. “And, please. Call me David, Ms. Smoak.”

Felicity nods kindly. “Only if you call me Felicity.”

“Okay, Felicity. So, what seems to be the problem?”

After quickly explaining her diagnosis, Felicity hands over her tablet for David to inspect her progress.

“I think it should be fixed now,” she says confidently, shrugging, doing one final test when her colleague gives her tablet back.

“Ah yes, QC is back in the land of email,” David jokes as his phone dings repeatedly. He pulls it out from his tweed suit pocket, showing Felicity the fifty email notifications that lit up the screen. “QC thanks you for your superpowers.”

 She laughs as she pushes up her glasses in a nervous tick. She’s never been good at compliments.

“I’m just sorry it wasn’t fixed sooner. I literally had to beg Oliver to let me come down here!” she grumbles lightly, remembering how pouty he was about it all before the moment she rolled into the elevator.

It’s the older man’s turn to laugh and shake his head. “Speaking of Mr. Queen, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”

Sweet Jupiter, please don’t tell her this is all Oliver’s fault. Knowing her luck, it probably is. After repeatedly telling him to Not. To. Click. On. Pop-ups. Of. Cute. Kittens because it’s a new, deadly virus that kills computers’ insides like a time bomb, he still does it occasionally when a pug pops up alongside it, saying he would be a monster if he didn’t watch it.

So she gulps and tries to hide the fear behind her eyes.

“Um, yes?”

She watches the man clasp his hands behind his back and shuffle back and forward, similar to Oliver’s pacing before.

She rolls her eyes. What’s with men and pacing today?

“As you know, I’ve never hidden my appreciation or my respect for your technological talents and knowledge, as well as your insight of this company,” David explains with a serious look on his face. “And I know you are thinking about applying for the Applied Sciences internship next year. But frankly my dear, with or without a master's degree, you are too talented and bright for that. I’ve been talking to HR and, well, I know Mr. Queen needs you too, but I’d like you to come help me two days a week in AS or IT while Kelly’s away.”

 _WHAT?!_ This isn’t about Oliver’s cute animal obsession that could’ve killed every computer he touches but a _job offer_?

Eyes popping out of her head in surprise, Felicity takes a moment to deal with what’s happening as her brain trips over itself to process the information fast enough.

A job offer.

The job that she actually wanted in the first place. To actually use her skills and training for something she loves doing. If this was any other time, it would be a no-brainer. She would have taken it without any guilt…

But _Oliver._

They’ve only just found their groove in running the company. Oliver’s becoming more confident each day, shining as CEO. She can’t take that away from him. Not when he’s trying to prove his mother wrong about being the same guy as before. Also, she’s too loyal for her own good. She can’t just leave a friend in the lurch after she promised to help them. She knows it’s only two days but it would be the biggest disruption if she just changes jobs in the middle of the week.

“I’m sorry,” Felicity apologizes, her eyes focusing on her fingers playing with the hem of her light blue dress before looking up reluctantly. “I would love to, but it wouldn’t be fair to Mr. Queen.” 

“He said you would say that,” David tells her knowingly, a soft smile lifting the edges of his thin lips. “That’s why he also said that I needed to talk to you personally before I get his permission. Felicity, this is _your_ decision and your decision alone. Mr. Queen and I will back you up, whatever you decide.”

For a moment, Felicity feels a stab of hurt that Oliver knew about this and didn’t tell her, thinking that their honestly pact had fallen by the wayside. But then, her heart takes over and blooms like a flower, leaking warmth and giddiness from the inside out. Of course, he would say that. To leave her to make the choice, to decide what’s best for _her_ — even if it means that he suffers a bit.

She doesn’t think she can feel any more gratitude — or any other feelings she doesn’t want to name in this dim room — towards this generous, kind man that is Oliver right now.

“Well, in that case. Yes, I would love to accept your offer, David!” she answers easily, nodding enthusiastically as she puts her hand out to seal the deal.

Accepting her handshake, her new other boss smiles.

“I’m glad. I’ll—”

The sound of expensive leather shoes tapping loudly against the floor cuts the conversation off as a fast-paced Oliver enters the room.

“Felicity! I know you said an hour but judging by the constant buzzing of my phone, it means you’ve fixed it so now you’re probably at the point where you’re ripping the entire server room apart and rebuilding to make it run smoother... Oh, Hello Mr. Barker. Sorry to interrupt,” Oliver says a little sheepishly as he comes to a stop by the door. He’s holding Felicity’s Tardis mug in one hand while he gestures to his muscled forearm, draped with the black cashmere cardigan she keeps at the office for when the AC gets too cool.

Yeah, between that look and the sweet gesture — apparently Felicity can feel _more_ for this guy.

“I was just bringing Felicity a coffee and her cardigan. I know how cold it can get down here.”

Before anybody can say anything more, Felicity blurts out, “I accepted his job offer!”

Oliver chuckles, placing her mug on the table next to him before stepping over to the duo and wrapping the black material around her shoulders.

“Good,” he says with his hands in his pockets and a dip of his head, a gorgeous dimpled smile is sent Felicity’s way before he turns to Barker. “Then it seems you have my okay.”

With a nod and a excited wave, David exits the room with a happy, “I’ll be in touch regarding your job details, Felicity! It’ll be so good to have you on the team.”

As soon as he’s out of earshot, Felicity’s babbling so fast while her mind runs a million miles an hour, figuring out schedules as her fingers fly over her tablet at the same speed. She needs to sort everything out now, and there’s so much to do and consider.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this? I mean, you say you’ll are but it’s _two_ days, Oliver! Two days that I’m not there to help. Oh god, what if… and how are we… You’re _definitely_ not getting a temp because they have no idea… Holy shit, Oliver why did we agree to this?”

She’s speaking so fast that she’s cutting herself off and she finds herself getting dizzy. Oliver chuckles lightly as he bends down to her level, grabbing both of her hands to stop her frantically typing on her tablet.

“Hey, hey. Easy there,” he coaxes, his thumbs soothing over her knuckles, repeating her actions from earlier. “We can discuss details later. And if I’m really in trouble, I can travel 18 floors to see you. It’s no big deal.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“I _am_ right.” He mimics her words from before, deja vu floating between them.

She smiles then, a sense of calm filling her a she takes a big breath and nods in agreement.

“So, does that mean I still have a shot at employee of the month? Even if I’m leaving you?” she jokes, giving him her best cute pout and puppy dog eyes.

“No,” Oliver says seriously, his intense eyes boring into her own — like he wants to tell her more than his words are saying. “Because you're not my employee, you're my partner.”

The admission takes her already unsteady breath away as the warmth in her veins ignites something in her — an acknowledgement, of sorts. It’s subtle in the way she finally accepts it but too big for her to name out loud.

In realising that she needs him as much as he needs her.

That they’re a team. _Partners_.

That they’ll manage this because they’re in this _together_.

She catches his sparkling eyes and a wave of appreciation and trust hits her in the chest as she takes him in. He looks so strong, so sure about all of this that it makes Felicity instantly feel relaxed, and a little emotional, if she’s being honest. The moment is broken when she laughs heartily as he tries to pull her towards the door by the hand. “C’mon, let’s go out for lunch and celebrate.”

**↹**

**Friday 21st June, 2013 - 7:34pm.**

Happiness should be surrounding her like a rainbow, or the first sighting of an unicorn trotting past her window, or something with a pot of gold. Okay, maybe that’s a little extreme. But being happy should be a thing for her right now. It is, in its own little way somewhere deep inside.

Except it’s _not,_ though. 

It’s been one of _those_ days for Felicity — where, quite frankly, she’s feeling flat, a whole lot like a fool and truthfully, lonesome.

It started off _great_. David Barker had emailed both her and Oliver this morning basically telling her that she can start her side job whenever she wants. She had given herself a round of applause and a fist pump high in the air. Her first reaction after that was to look through Oliver’s office door to get a celebratory smile back.

All she was met with was an empty space. Which she hated. A lot.

She thought about calling him, or at least texting him. But why would she do that when he’d already gotten the email? It seemed silly to distract him from his busy trip just because she was excited about a small email regarding details that he presumably had already read.

Then, texting Thea popped into her head. They’d been in contact ever since the younger woman insisted they swap details on Sunday. However, Felicity decided this was too much for a friendship that started a week ago, not wanting to come on too strong. Thea had said that she didn’t talk QC with Oliver so she probably wouldn’t even care about her job.

She couldn’t even hold onto the excitement and share it when she got home. Canary’s has taken off over the past few weeks, keeping Sara virtually chained there well past midnight each night, sorting out class schedules as well as the business side. Naturally, Nyssa has stayed back to help. She has missed her best friend and her girlfriend, and the realization that she couldn’t share the news in person made Felicity’s day a little duller.

And then the mishaps started to happen. It was only small things like a file accidentally slipping from her lap while she was wheeling to the filing cabinet in Oliver’s office. Or when she couldn’t reach the coffee pods to refill the coffee machine, only to finally grab them as they spilled to the ground. The two incidents had made her do her ‘ _lean over and hope for the best_ ’ move, which involves pulling up her foot plates and bending into her seat belt, praying to the universe that it holds her and doesn’t tip her chair over as it takes longer than usual to pick something up. She hates the move, not only because it’s a risk, but it really sucks when the belt buckle digs into her stomach or when the object is inches out of reach of her fingers so she has to move and do it all over again.

Now, she sighs dramatically into the empty apartment as she flops her freshly showered and TV dinner-filled self into bed, pulling up the duvet so it’s burying her from head to toe, shielding her from her bedside lamp that’s illuminating her room. She thinks about screaming or crying, anything to release the heaviness in her chest, but she knows those options won’t be any use to her.

She knows what she wants to do, but for the life of her, she can’t bring herself to do it.

Huffing, her warm breath slightly tenting the duvet above her, she aggressively pushes the purple striped, fluffy cover away from her face to go in search for her iPhone, which she carelessly threw on the bed before transferring herself. Her glassy eyes flicker to her laptop and Kindle that sit on the other side of the bed — almost like they claim that side now — but her usual eagerness to continue a book or a TV show is non-existent, replaced with apathy.

Her iPhone lays upside down on the rumpled bed. Felicity turns on her side in order to pick it up and starts to scroll through her contacts. Biting her lip in hesitation, her thumb hovers over a number before letting a loud, self-loathing, “UGH!”

She’s being ridiculous; she has felt lonely before. Actually, loneliness has been a big part of her quiet life in her bubble. She has learned to accept it over the last five years. She’d replaced people with fictional characters, preferring the knowledge that they’ll will be always there whenever she turns on her Kindle or presses play on her laptop, unlike the real people in her life.

So, why is being alone getting to her _now_?

Twisting onto her back, she slams her phone down onto the fluffy cover and draws her hands up to scrub them along her face, groaning.

She needs to get a _fracking grip._ Her current life isn’t the sucky middle part of a rom-com she has to endure until everything magically turns out peachy. The sucky middle part is what she calls real life and it’s here to stay.

Leaving one hand to rest in her tangled curls, she picks up her phone again and taps on her long recent calls list, ironically made up of mostly just one number, and hits a random entry to call.

Taking a shaky breath, she waits as it starts to ring.

She isn’t surprised at all as the call connects after only three rings.

“Hey baby girl, is everything okay?” Donna Smoak warily asks in her usual greeting.

“Hi Mom, everything's fine!” Felicity answers, trying to sound like her bubbly self but she winces at how deflated she sounds. She hears her mom rushing around on the other end. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No, no. I just got home from my shift at Caesar’s,” Donna says, the faint sound of an ancient microwave buzzing in the background. “Are you sure you’re okay? You sound sad, sweetie.”

Ugh. She should’ve known that her mom would pick up on her weird mood. After all, it’s her _mother_ — the one person who truly knows her. Every fear, every hope and dream. If Felicity’s all the unsolved cases in the world, Donna’s the workaholic detective who cracks the case every time.

It’s fruitless to lie to her mom, but Felicity still tries anyway.

“Uh, just had a bad day. Kept dropping things and you know how much I hate that,” Felicity grumbles, speaking in half truths.

“Oh, I’m sorry baby girl! At least you’re home now and can put an episode of _The Office_ on to make you laugh!”

 _The Office_ is her go-to show when she’s feeling down in the dumps. Nothing can beat the crazy shenanigans that happen on the show and the adorable Jim Halpert to put a smile on Felicity’s face after a trying day. Despite being one half of the greatest office romances in her era, Felicity realizes now that there should be more than fictional Jim Halpert to make her happy after a long day. Maybe a group of real friends that she can vent to, people who she feels she can call. And not just Sara or Nyssa. Like a real support network. Perhaps a someone _special_ who she can come home to and snuggle without any reason except to be comforted.

“Hmmm..” Felicity agrees absently, removing her hand from her curls and lifting it into the air before her eyeline. She focuses on her chipped teal nail polish, using it as a method to distract herself from continuing that line of thought. She doesn’t need her mind to conjure up the image of her snuggling up to a _certain_ someone special. 

“I know that hum, Felicity Megan,” Donna accuses, the clang of cutlery falling into a bowl or a plate travelling down the line. “Something else is bothering you!”

The detective is back on a unsolved case.

“ _Mom..._ ”

“ _Felicity!”_

Huffing, Felicity squeezes her eyes shut in the hope that when she opens them again that this conversion will have turned into something light as fast as it turned deep. She wills her mother to remember some gossip from work, or some family member drama that she can’t wait to tell her as Felicity listens to Donna’s steady breaths over the phone mixing with her own labored one.

No such luck.

“Sweetie, I can hear you pleading with the ground to swallow you whole! What’s the matter?”

“Fine,” Felicity snaps, opening her eyes to stare intently at the ceiling above, hating the one tear that slowly rolls down to her ear before she quickly wipes it away. “If you must know, I’m feeling a tiny bit lonely. That’s all. Sara’s been working late lately and on top of that Oliver’s away—”

“Wait! Do you mean your _handsome_ boss, Oliver?” Donna cuts her off with a high-pitched squeal.

Of course, her mom is the one person who can focus on a small detail instead of the bigger picture. Sure, that small detail is a man and Felicity technically implied that she misses him. Did she? Or is her mom an actually a secret detective and put two and two together. 

She’s not going to lie, she _does_ miss that dimpled smile.

However, before this gets way out of hand and she finds herself having an awkward conversation about sex or a debate about _deserving_ , or even worse, speaking her feelings out loud — Felicity needs to turn this around. And quickly.

Replaying their conversation in her head, Felicity zones on a particular phase that her mother has said.

Handsome boss.

 _Handsome_. Boss.

Without a doubt, she knows that Donna hasn’t seen a picture of Oliver. Not only that the fact Felicity hasn’t shown her but her mom is terrible at techology. She can barely send a text let alone manage the internet.

Unless Sara has…

Oh, _Android._

“Mom, how do you even know that Oliver is good looking,” she questions, grabbing the pillow beside her head in panic and cradling it to her chest in moral support before adding what she hopes is a neutral tone, “objectively speaking, of course.”

“I asked The Google!” her mom exclaims proudly, her tone laced with excitement as she giggles.

“ _The Google?”_

“Oh yes, Jenny behind the bar has been teaching me on my breaks. I know how to BookFace stalk someone, too!”

“Oh _lord,_ Mom! You don’t ask google, you search! And it’s Facebo—”

“No wonder you looked like a sex kitten at the gala, that man is to die for! If I were you, I’d climb him like—”

“ _MOM!”_

All her blood has rushed to her cheeks and they burn like tiny fires of embarrassment as she yells for her mom to stop talking immediately. She groans as she shakes her head to remove her mom’s suggestive words out of her poor, poor brain. In attempt to hide, even though she’s alone and her mother is miles away, Felicity throws the pillow onto the floor and pulls up the purple duvet and buries herself underneath. Exhaling a long breath, she lets the darkness soothe her for a moment.

“Are you hiding under the covers to avoid me like when you were little?”

Ignoring the knowing smugness in her mom’s question, she pouts and huffs — similar to when she was a kid — not bothering to answer the question.

“We. Are. Just. Friends,” she blatantly spells out, burrowing further underneath the covers, wearing a confused grimace at the thought of Donna knowing that she’s in bed. It’s kind of creepy that she knows that.

“Are you sure?” Donna wonders. Her voice is kind yet has that motherly tone to it, the one that all moms have when they think they know something. “I mean, according to Sara, you have mentioned that he’s _lovely._ You’ve never used that word to describe a man before. Also you _allowed_ him to dance with you! _Dance_ , Felicity! You haven’t gone near a dance floor since you’ve been in a chair. Plus you go on your cute coffee dates every Saturday! I’m just saying—”

“ _Friends_ , mom!”

Felicity swears she’s gonna kill Sara when she gets home and ban all phone calls between her and her mom. She knows they mean well, but _geez_! She’s never liked being the center of attention, let alone her imaginary love life. Her anxiety must have kicked in as her heavy breathing sounds shallow even to her own ears and her brain starts to haze.

Her mom has obviously picked up on it, because _duh,_ she’s Donna Smoak.

“All I’m saying, sweetie, is that, if you did like Oliver — no one would judge you for it,” Donna assures her softly, her soothing tone washing over Felicity. “If anyone deserves love and happiness, it’s you, my beautiful girl.”

A whimper leaves Felicity as she places a hand on her forehead, another tear falling from her eye. Her mom’s words struck a chord within her, feeling so overwhelmed at how her mom just wants her to be happy. To find someone that loves her so much that they see past her insecurities and scars. So much so, that Felicity can’t stop the words that are climbing up her throat. 

“Mom,” she croaks out, as sweat forms underneath her hand on her forehead as nerves erupt in her tummy like fireworks. “If I tell you something, do you promise to not to tell Sara next time you two speak?”

“Of course, baby girl,” Donna agrees, and conviction oozes out of her voice. It’s firm and trustful. “When have I ever told a secret of yours?” 

 _Never._ She might be a little eccentric for a mother with all her sequins and sparkle — finding having a good time more fun than doing normal motherly things, and too nosey for her own good, but Donna Smoak is a vault of Felicity’s secrets. No one has never found out that Felicity occasionally had bladder control issues at night until a year after her accident. Not even her doctors. She had just told Felicity, “Why would I tell them? Obviously you’re still getting used to your body’s new signals, baby girl! No harm done!”

She’s so lucky to have a woman like her as her mother.

“I like Oliver. Like, _like_ like him, Mom,” Felicity admits with a shaky voice. “I even went in the car with him and I kinda took his hand hostage but he just held my hand the entire time. Holy Google, he’s so kind and thoughtful and oh my god, I’m falling in love with him…”

Instead of feeling fear or anxiety at finally admitting out loud what she accepted down in that gloomy, cool server room on Monday, Felicity only feels like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders. It’s feels so good to let the words roll off her tongue and hear them in her ears. It’s concrete this way. It’s real and tangible. Solid and firm. And Felicity can’t help but smile giddily at how saying the words out loud makes her feel like she’s not going insane anymore.

“Oh that’s wonderful! I’m so happy for you, sweetie!” Donna sniffs happily, a smile in her voice.

“Mom, are you _crying_?”

“It-it’s just that ever since that son of the bitch, you’ve been so closed up in that bubble of yours! And now, you have started to open your heart again.”

“ _Hmmm._ ”

“Oh no! Please tell me there isn’t a ‘but,’ ” Donna gasps knowingly. Once again, she reads her daughter like a book.

There is. There’s a big fat ‘but.’ Felicity means what she has told herself. She can’t afford to dive in and start anything. She wouldn’t survive it if Oliver left her. She barely held on last time, and she didn’t feel then half of what she does for Oliver now. And Oliver _definitely_ deserves better than her. That’s one thing that she wouldn’t be changing her mind about. Not now, not ever...

“But I can’t, Mom. I just can’t!” she breathes as tears well up, not wanting to elaborate on the reasons why to her mom.

“Baby girl, I don’t know Oliver but I can tell you for certainly that he’s no _Cooper._ ”

“I can’t take that risk.”

Her mom sighs and silence washes over them as the heaviness of Felicity’s words sink in.

“Well,” Donna drawls out after a beat. “At least you get to perv on him six days out of seven! And people do say Sunday is the day of rest…”

A rich belly laugh takes over Felicity and echoes throughout her quiet room.

Her mom always knew how to be inappropriate in times of seriousness. Somehow, Felicity believes she does it on purpose to make her laugh. It works every time.

**↹**

**Saturday 22nd June, 2013 - 10:24am**

“Deep breaths, Felicity,” a concerned Digg coaches, warm brown eyes softening as he kneels before her, helps her to get rid of her boxing gloves and throws them beside her wheel. “Listen what your body’s telling you and see if you downregulate your anxiety like I taught you.”

She’s not sure what possessed her to do it. Especially when she knows what the consequences are: an imaginary herd of elephants stampeding across her chest, a heavy fog clouding her brain and the uncontrollable shaking of her working limbs. It doesn’t help that sweat is beading off her brow and her lungs are gulping for oxygen from the mixture of the boxing exercises and the fear response that is rippling through her body right now.

She could blame it on the weird week she’s having. It’s not every day that Felicity accepts that she’s falling for a man that she’ll never allow herself to be with or struggle with the idea of being alone, when lonesome is all she wants to be. So maybe her thought processes are topsy turvy and she lost a few IQ points along the way.

And maybe that’s why she blurts out to Digg that she doesn’t want to feel alone anymore in the middle of a set.

But deep down Felicity knows a small part of her is sick of being _caged_ within the bubble that she’s created for herself and wants to know _if_ she can break free from that.

Even if she still doesn't know to what extent, or if she truly wants to at all. She might test the waters and hate it.

All she knows there’s something in her that wants to try.

“I-I’m sorry.” she stutters, her raspy voice is no higher than a whisper as it strains to get past her down turned lips.

It has taken all her courage and strength to speak these words and ask for advice, and now she feels like a small, weak girl who’s scared to do anything, because she might get ridiculed or judged, or even worse, rejected. A few rebel tears fall from her blurry eyes as her gaze falls to her lap and she immediately wipes them with a shaky hand.

Gah. She hates feeling like this. She’s meant to be strong and tough.

“No,” Digg tells her firmly, but there’s the kindness that his deep voice has, gently grabbing her hand so she focuses on him. “You don’t apologize. You have no idea how _proud_ I am that you came to me with this. I know it has taken you a lot to do this.”

She tries for a soft smile but ends up grimacing. She’s thankful for the kind words but she’s not feeling very proud at all. Digg must see that and leaves her to have a moment alone to let the words wash over her as he goes to get a yoga ball to sit on. He takes his time rolling the green ball back before placing it in front of her chair and sitting down, rocking it side to side to get comfortable before speaking again.

“However, if I’m going to give you the best advice that I can — which I want to — I need to know where this is coming from. _Why_ do you not want to feel alone anymore?” he asks.

His words are light and soft, but there’s a candidness to them. Like he wants her to take note and really think about what he’s actually asking. To really question herself truthfully.

 _Lord,_ talk about confronting.

Her mouth opens to speak but her vocal cords seem to be on strike as nothing but a puff of air comes out. She swallows; the action doesn’t help the pressure on her chest but it does give her time to try to unmuddle her brain. Frustrated at herself, Felicity frowns as she goes for take two and parts her dry lips…

Still nothing.

How come Digg isn’t as annoyed with her as she is with herself? He’s waiting for her answer with an encouraging smile and a steady gaze, swaying a little on the yoga ball. Perhaps it’s because in his eyes — unlike her own view — it’s completely _okay_ to…

Not have an answer sometimes.

“Is this about Sara not being home lately? And Oliver’s business trip? Or is this you wanting to get out there and be more social?” he wonders out loud, scratching his chin in thought, using the information Felicity had given him when they caught up at the start of the session.

That’s a really good point. One that Felicity would have considered in more depth if her mind wasn’t so Scarecrow from Wizard of Oz, _If she only had a brain_ in this moment.

What if this is only about this week? That her three closest friends are just busy with life and she’s feeling effects from it? What if she’s only PMSing, because her period _is_ due. She doesn’t want to do anything _irrational_ to fix her loneliness if she’s going to regret it later. Maybe she’ll wake up tomorrow and be back to loving her own company.

However, what if this has been bugging her longer than this week and it was so deep down inside of her and she didn’t even know? Maybe that the fact that her friends are busy is the catalyst to all this?

Gah. This so confusing!

“I don’t know? Both maybe?” Felicity whispers, shrugging before itching her nose in a nervous tick, bowing her head to avoid Digg’s reaction.

She hates being so unsure.

“Hmm, okay then,” Digg says thoughtfully, clasping his hands together before leaning his elbows on his elbows and smiling. One finger points at the space between them as he nods knowingly. “Let’s do an experiment, Felicity — instead of staying home next weekend, invite a friend somewhere. It doesn’t have to be big. Maybe go see a movie, or invite them over for a coffee? Lunch, even? Something that _you’re_ comfortable with. And when the experiment is over, we’re going to discuss how you felt about it. Sound good?”

Felicity gulps. Usually she is all about experiments. Blowing stuff up and mixing chemicals. But this experiment sounds _terrifying_. She’s only has four friends, and two of them she lives with. So that only leaves Thea and Oliver. While Thea is the safer option — no big feeling epiphany there — Felicity knows she’ll come across as awkward, it takes her a while to feel comfortable around new friends one-on-one.

So that leaves Oliver. Which is fine. Except those pesky new feelings make it difficult, and she doesn’t want to complicate things further by falling more for him when she knows she should probably spend less time with him alone in a friendly capacity until her feelings pass. Plus they do coffee already so she would have to go grander, like a movie or a dinner. And to her that sounds like a date.

Although, she does owe it to herself to at least follow this advice. She can’t deny that part of herself that wants to try to see if she can burst her bubble. 

She can be strong. She can do this… maybe?

“I can do that, I think. I may have anxiety attack beforehand and die but I’m going to try,” she half jokes as her hands come to rest on her rims. She’s not so hazy anymore, her breathing calmer.

Her ponytail whips her in the face as she shakes her head forcibly at the image of her dying out of fear in Oliver’s arms, only to have the words come out as her last breath while he dramatically cries and mourns over her body. Him yelling into the stormy sky that he accepts her offer is all too real in her head.

Boy, what a lame and unsatisfactory way to go. That Oliver really seemed to be into her. It could have been a date. And she probably would’ve gotten lucky, too. She’s not too sure why they were outside in a storm, but okay, she’ll roll with it.

A chuckle from Digg breaks her out of her daydream. He stands, gesturing to follow him to the foyer — signaling that the session is over.

“I have faith that you can do this,” he tells her confidently, sliding behind the reception desk and entering data into the system. 

“Thank so much, Digg! You’re the best!” Felicity beams back, reaching around the back to her wheelchair’s pocket and grabbing out her polka dot purse.

Digg just smiles and hums at that, accepting her credit card as she passes it over.

“So, what are you going to do now since your coffee buddy is away?” he asks with an arched eyebrow while still focused on processing the payment.

“Ah, I think I’ll still go. I can’t get enough of the pie!” She laughs sheepishly as her stomach rumbles on cue.

Her laugh turns into a confused frown as she stuffs her credit card back into it place, looking up to meet Digg’s eyes. A sudden thought pops into her head, and the more she thinks about, the less sense it makes.

It irks her because she hates mysteries. Also, it also irks her because why didn’t she pick up on it until now? She’s meant to have CIA spy skills.

“Hey, question?” she asks casually, her eyes flicking from Digg to the keyboard that he starts to type on again.

“Yeah?”

“I know he’s only a volunteer here, but why do you let Oliver go to coffee with me? I mean, he only does like two hours of work then _poof_ he leaves you. I’m sure you have every right as the _boss_ to make him stay.”

She didn’t expect the loud laugh that escapes the man sitting across from her. It bounces off the walls as Digg shakes his head and looks at her with mirth sparkling in his brown eyes, making her join in and giggle.

“Well, Oliver thinks he _runs_ the joint so I just let him think it.”

His words seem like a joke, but there’s someone about the way he said them — it’s almost like they were spoken cryptically. Like there’s a hidden meaning behind them that Felicity can’t put her finger on.

Although, after the week Felicity’s had, she’s probably reading into this like a conspiracy theorist.

“Fair enough.” she says, still giggling at Digg’s joyous laugh. She slowly rolls herself backwards before stopping to wave. “I better let you go and boss around people who do actual work. Come to think of it, that’s only your wife so better not! Thanks again for today.”

It’s not until she reaches the automatic door that she hears the floating words that warm her heart like sunshine and smiles like a kid getting an award at school.

‘I’m proud of you, Felicity.”

**↹**

**Monday 24th June, 2013 - 1:03pm**

It’s _time_.

Felicity feels like Katniss Everdeen in her pod before she entered the brutal arena for the first time as the elevator rides up to the Executive Floor. Nerves eat her alive and her teeth chatter ever so lightly. She gets cold when she’s super, _super_ nervous.

Not that she’s comparing _this_ to _The Hunger Games._   Actually what she’s about to do is very, very normal and nice and voluntary — on her behalf, even if she’s hesitant about it — unlike the poor bow and arrow wielding girl.

(BTW how cool are bow and arrows? She definitely has a thing for them!)

In fact, what she’s about to do makes her heart warm. It’s casually doing cartwheels in excitement like it doesn’t have the care in the world that everything around it has gone into meltdown. It’s the only thing is that keeping her slightly trembling body warm. Stupid, traitorous organ — where did its timidness go? Obviously it’s decided to go through a rebellious stage against her brain.

Because her brain is screaming at her to not to do this, frantically trying to make her press another level button and make a safe exit. It’s telling her to be logical, to think about this. To consider the situation for both parties — this is only going to end up like last time. But in spite of her brain’s need for safety, Felicity is walking straight into the face of danger.

Okay, not danger exactly. She’s not going into a burning building or a knife fight. It’s more like danger for her nerves because…

She’s asking Oliver Queen out to dinner.

After many hours of battling a bloody internal war with herself, Felicity has decided to take Digg’s assignment seriously and invite a friend out. The battle was long and tiring, her strong self even made her weak self cry at some of its hard truths. But in the end, strong and weak came in unison and decided that this was something that Felicity needed to do. Something that would prove that she’s capable and she’s more than a _loner_ in a wheelchair.

So the decision was made: Oliver’s gonna get an dinner offer for Friday.

But the thing is, to her two friends that are hyped up on endorphins and love because it’s their anniversary on the same day — this is a romantic date that Felicity chose because they are going to be staying in Nyssa’s cabin in the woods for the night, therefore leaving the apartment empty if the ‘date’ goes _well…_

Well, to put it in Sara’s very loud and ecstatic words that she had shouted in the middle of an argument with an equally loud and excited Nyssa about the best way for Felicity to light candles quickly:

‘ _Olicity’s gonna BANG SO HARD!’_

However, for the record and on deaf ears, Felicity just thinks it would be the perfect time to ask a friend to do something because otherwise she’ll be home alone; it’ll be something to help her feel less lonely before bedtime. It’d be casual, friendly and chill. Just two friends having dinner.

She thinks. What if Oliver thinks…

She shakes her head to stop herself from going there. Nothing good will come of this if she thinks that way. Sooner rather than later Felicity will have to pull out the Friend Zone Card and wave it around in the air until Oliver gets the point. For now there’s no need; boundaries are neatly set in place.

The ding of the elevator door makes her jump, not realizing that the car had stopped at its destination. She takes a second to center herself and puts on her armor in the form of a bright smile.

This morning she had chickened out twice. The first time, she was so nervous that she resembled the sick face emoji and asked for another cup of coffee even though her Tardis mug was still half full. The second time was _mortifying_ — Oliver had come over and bent down so she could speak and she had just babbled about Post-it Notes.

 _Post-it Notes._ She didn’t even know where it came from. One moment she was prepared and the next she wasn’t. Not this time, though. She’s gonna find her inner Katniss and strike the question with a bullseye.

“Oliver,” Felicity calls out hesitantly as she wheels herself over to her desk, despite her previous Katniss analogy. “I need to talk to you about something!”

It’s like her voice is the Pied Piper, as Oliver bounds out of his office and comes to stand before her, wearing a gorgeous navy three piece and that dimpled smile that instantly calms and makes her pulse run rapid simultaneously.

Silently, he goes down to her level and waits for her to answer his curious eyes, intense and fantastically blue focusing solely on her. The rose in her cheeks glows brighter as the words travel up her throat, parting her lips. The question is on the tip of the tongue until..

Oh.

Oh, hi there Super Pretty Brunette who isn’t Helena. Who just followed Oliver out of his office like a nice, independent yet feminine puppy with a sensible and stylish blazer and killer heels. Who’s touching Oliver on the shoulder while smiling intimately, like she’s done it a million times before.

Felicity knows SPB is nice because she’s smiling kindly back between her and Oliver, no hint of a scowl or a frown in sight.

Thank Pluto, she’s isn’t one of Helena’s dragon sisters. That’s _nice_ for Oliver. And Felicity doesn’t have to take her down a notch. Taking dragons out isn’t really her thing.

 _Ohhhhh!_    

The light bulb finally goes on in Felicity’s head. SPB is totally banging Oliver in his penthouse. It makes sense, actually. Between the intimate look on her face to how her hand rests effortlessly on his shoulder to her beautiful and well put together presence. She definitely suits Oliver. Somehow Felicity can imagine her winning Moria over and being the perfect CEO’s wife; holding his hand as they walk down the street, standing up on her tippy toes to kiss him.

Suddenly, Felicity’s inner Katniss dies. She’s a balloon deflating. No longer shyly confident. She shouldn’t have listened to Digg. Her stomach drops, her skin starts to prickle and tighten and there’s this unsettling heaviness in her chest that she’s never felt before. She swallows and subtly wipes her clammy palms on her aqua dress as she tries to ignore Oliver’s hefty glare.

“Hi, I’m McKenna Hall. I’m an old friend of Ollie’s,” SPB greets her with a polite handshake. Felicity can’t help but notice the way she awkwardly half stands, half bends.

Ah yes, ‘old friend.’ That’s code for ex-girlfriend but currently working to be a girlfriend again. Felicity’s not silly, she’s watched and read enough romances to know what’s going on here. She should be happy for her _friend._ Because that what Oliver is to her, a _friend._ And that’s what friends do, be happy for one another. Instead of happiness, the unsettling heaviness she feels only multiplies as her hands start to curl into fists.

Why does her skin feel like it’s crushing her organs like a deadly snake?

“Felicity. Felicity Smoak. Plain old assistant. Well, not for long now, I guess.” she replies, shaking McKenna’s hand with a forced smile. She notices Oliver’s frown at her introduction and it oddly gives her some satisfaction to see a flash of hurt enter his eyes at her abrupt description of herself — although she has no idea why she needs it or why she’s acting this way.

Awkwardly coughing, Oliver stands up and rubs the back of his neck.

“McKenna was just dropping by on her lunch break. She’s a senior detective at SCPD.”

 _Of course_ she is. Because a CEO and a detective couldn’t be anymore Power Couple if they tried. Felicity has to refrain from rolling her eyes and she puts on her best interested and happy face.

With a smooth touch to his forearm that makes Felicity’s tummy roll in angst and her fists tighten, McKenna smiles at her, then her eyes soften as her gaze shifts to Oliver.

“Felicity, it was so great to meet you but I have to get back to the precinct,” she says and Felicity can’t help but give her a small, genuine smile, despite the weird, passive-aggressive feeling she has towards the SPB. “Oliver, still on for Friday? Verdant, for old times’ sake?”

Okay, okay! She gets that they have a history! Yes, well done McKenna! You’ve _fucked_ Oliver Queen and are probably going to _fuck_ him again on Friday. Big deal!

This time Felicity can’t stop the tiniest of eye rolls from happening.

‘ _Wow, someone’s eager to lock this date down. Couldn’t wait 4 days to do it!’_ her brain bitchily supplies.

‘ _Yeah, and you were about to do the same,’_ replied a small, annoying voice at the back of her head, suspiciously sounding a lot like a mixture of Logical Felicity and Digg.

Sighing, Felicity looks down at her fuschia pumps and wishes she could stop behaving like this. The unsettling heaviness turns into sadness and a hint of anger as she bites her lip and looks up with a honest smile. She needs to get far, far away from here and try to pull herself out of this strange mood.

“No, no. Stay, McKenna!” she tells the gorgeous woman with a wave. “I was just leaving—”

“Wait? Leaving where? I thought you wanted to talk to me!” Oliver cuts in as Felicity rolls to the elevator and presses the button repeatedly.

She so needs to get out of here.

“David Barker!” she exclaims with a false cheer, her voice sounding weird to herself as she lies through her teeth because there has been no discussion between them yet. “I was just coming up to telling you that for the rest of the day, I’m working with David Barker!”

All she feels in that moment is _sadness_. Every other emotion is stripped away as her heart stops doing its cartwheels.

Because she finally realizes why she’s behaving the way that she is as she watches McKenna laugh and playfully pat his chest while Oliver smiles.

She’s utterly, completely and one hundred percent _jealous._

But there’s no reason for her to be.

Because as long as Felicity’s sane and logical, Oliver isn’t and _never_ will be _hers._


	8. Your Mess is Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Loves!
> 
> I'm so sorry for the very late chapter! I wish I could blame it on my holiday (which was AMAZING *cries about being home*) but I've only got myself to blame. I felt the pressure with this chapter.
> 
> So this is an very important chapter! For the story, this is the first turning point. For myself, the entire fic is based on this single idea I had wayyyyy back when Felicity was in a chair. Without this idea, there would be no Hide Away. 
> 
> I really hope I do it justice (there are alot of emotions in this).... please tell me your thoughts!
> 
> A BIG THANKS to Felice for designing this wonderful new poster. She's a champ.
> 
> I'm forever grateful to Andrea for pushing and supporting me to write this when I was doubting myself.
> 
> To my betas, Christine and Madalyn, THANK YOU SO MUCH!! 
> 
> Happy Holidays and Happy New Year!
> 
> Emms xx

* * *

 

 **Friday 21st June, 2013 - 8:13pm**  
  
The only sound in the empty apartment is her wheels on the kitchen tiles as she turns to click on the coffee machine. Her legs hang freely, her footplate is up and her seatbelt is off. She gives her shoulders a little shimmy as she hums — she enjoys not having to be confined in her chair, especially at home alone.  
  
She feels so free like this. Able to flop from the couch to her bed to fixing herself meals without unbuckling her belt every time. And tonight is even better because she’s truly alone, meaning her footplate goes up and her feet can hang without Sara worrying.  
  
Her best friend is on a romantic night away as an anniversary present at Nyssa’s cabin in the woods so she can’t text and check up on her. Not that Felicity minds but...  
  
She’s very excited to be back in her bubble with no distractions.  
  
Distractions being the way she remembers at random times that Oliver has a date with McKenna. Tonight.  
  
To be honest, it hasn’t been often that she gets reminded. Felicity was smart and had successfully gotten herself as much time as she could in IT. She absolutely adores it there. David has already given her a few projects of her own.  
  
And it looks like Gerry the Temp adores working for Oliver. Or ogling him from the EA desk.  
  
Oh, she’s been there, kid. Poor soul. The temp doesn’t even get coffee brought to him. Shame, he’s missing out on some good ogling time.  
  
However, she bets Gerry doesn’t get eaten by jealousy when his traitorous brain reminds him of Oliver’s love life. It’s not like Felicity was in the running to become ‘the date,’ and she’s trying to tamp her feelings down toward him now. But it still hurts for some reason.  
  
Google, she so needed this tonight.  
  
It’s hot, the temperature still lingering from the summer’s day in Starling, so she’s opting for an iced coffee to take to bed while she reads. She’s all set, she has her Harry Potter books ready — romance novels are totally out of the picture, for obvious reasons — and her cute pajama shorts with cartoon Harry Potter glasses and sparkly gold lightning bolts. Her hair is carelessly pulled up on the top of her head in a messy bun and her glasses are on her pillow.  
  
All she needs is a refreshing mug of iced liquid heaven.  
  
Wheeling herself over to the sink, she goes to grab her glass mug that always sits there but it’s missing.  
  
_Ugh._ Must be dirty in the dishwasher!  
  
Sighing, she rolls to the cupboard and opens it without much thought. She must be on a weird angle as she reaches down without looking and grabs air until she her fingers bump into something, knocking a mug over. Instantly, she looks down to see the mug is tipping over and is headed to its death on the tiled floor — and the hero that she is, Felicity tries to save it but leans over too much and tumbles.  
  
As soon as it happens, she knows it's inevitable. There’s nothing she can do but let it happen and brace herself for the fall. The moment the glass smashes, she’s right there with it. The impact stings as her body hits the ground with a thud.  
  
For a millisecond, she’s in shock. The urge to burst into tears is overwhelming but her brain takes over, leaving the shock and tears behind and going into Survival Mode overdrive.  
  
“FUCK!” she angrily yells out into the silence, rolling over on her back — feeling small bits of glass digging into her back —and experimentally moving her arms for pain. She swears again, wincing at the stinging that’s definitely caused by cuts from the mug. She doesn’t bother looking to see how many or how deep they are. She won’t be able to function if she knows blood’s involved.  
  
Her arms are a little sore but okay. Moveable. Good.  
  
Survival Mode is basically her mind and arms working in tangent until she’s safe.Literally just her brain and arms. Nothing else. No emotions. No indecision.  
  
Just instinct. And maybe a little anger.  
  
She pushes on her arms to sit up, shaking at the force she’s using in her core to help. Taking a deep breath, she pats her legs from her thighs to toes, inspecting for any injuries or broken bones. She hates that she has to do this but it’s been drilled into her that her legs need extra care during a fall. She wouldn’t know if she had snapped a bone until it was sticking out and showing itself the world.  
  
Gah, that imagery makes her feel sick.  
  
She takes her time to straighten her legs up after she knows everything is fine and no bones are indeed sticking out.  
  
Then it’s onto The Plan of Action, or the TPoA she likes to call it. It sounds so official like that.  
  
TPoA is important, it can break or make her so her instincts have to be perfect. Her eyes scan the area carefully and in great detail to take every piece of information in so her brain can calculate the best move for her. Her chair has moved but she can still see her phone on the seat.  
  
Good.  
  
The cupboard is still open and most of the mug is in the location that it fell but tiny pieces have scattered across the floor.  
  
Not so good.  
  
So if she can go around the cupboard door, she can shuffle herself over to her chair and reach for her phone — hopefully she can maneuver around any large bits of mug. She’ll have to put up with any small cuts on her legs on the way.  
  
It’s not ideal but it’s her only solution.  
  
Her backup plan is crawl to the living room, grab the throw from the couch and wait until Sara gets back tomorrow. But that’s last resort kind of thinking. She would crawl to her room for her laptop to hack anything that would help her first if she has to.  
  
She stumbles and her hand shoots out to catch herself, barely missing a large sharp shard. She swears at the closeness. She rights herself and tries again. Using her hands to slide along the tiles, sweat starts to dampen her the back of her white tank and it glistens on her brow. Felicity huffs and groans but never gives up as she reaches her chair and leans forward to swipe her phone onto her lap.  
  
She nearly shouts in glee as she picks up her phone to call Sara but remembers that she has no cell service tonight. She sends off a text anyways in hopes that Sara is somewhere where texts can come through.  
  
“Fucking hell, whyyyyy?!” she yells at the phone, slamming it against the seat of the chair.  
  
Dropping her head into her hands she makes a long whine in frustration. Why can’t her life ever go as easy as she plans?  
  
Although she’s very aware that she doesn’t have the right kind of strength yet, even through Digg says she’s getting stronger every session, she has to at least _try_ to get up into her chair by herself.  
  
With a calculating eye, she assesses her chair. A plan starts to form in her mind as she makes sure the brakes are on firmly. If she can grab onto the side of the seat with both hands, maybe she can pull and twist herself onto the seat.  
  
It’s a good plan in theory. It nearly works too, except Felicity doesn’t think about the weight of the chair. It’s too light for her to get any leverage to pull herself up. Her bottom gets so far from the ground before the chair tips and she falls hard on her butt.  
  
Three times.  
  
Puffing and cursing the law of gravity, she takes a moment to stop, think and cool down. It’s like a light bulb goes off in her head as she remembers a second person. A calmness fills her veins, easing her anxiety as she picks up her phone with a new sense of victory.  
  
Her thumb quickly finds the number and presses the call button at the same time she swings herself around in one big move so her back is facing the cupboards.  
  
Her hand shakes as it rings, exhaustion finally catching up with her as she flops to rest limply against the cupboards. Then, the noise of survival and resourcefulness dies in her head, and Felicity finds her lower lip trembling as she takes in the mess around her; tiny pieces of shattered mug and a small smear of blood on the tiles reflects in the soft light of the kitchen  
  
Everything in her wants her to breakdown and cry forever, like how she wanted to do when she first fell, but she shakes her head to push the feeling away. She can’t afford to have a moment of weakness, not when she’s in a situation like this.She needs to be focused and strong. She’s hasn’t gotten herself up in that chair yet. That is her goal right now. Once she’s up sitting and wheeling herself around, her independence safely restored, that’s when she can have a moment to freak out.  
  
But for now, she can do this. She’s a badass chick who’ll never be the floor’s bitch.  
  
It only takes another two rings for that badass chick to start to waver.  
  
“Hey you,” Oliver answers. His voice is smooth and deep, but there’s something about the tone. He almost sounds… buzzed. And happy, like he’s having a good time. It swirls into the loud beats of the music when he adds a breathy, “Whatcha doing?”  
  
Oh _god._ He’s out on his date with McKenna. Absolute proof that he’s out. With her. And Felicity’s interrupting him. _Frack._ She feels so bad. It isn’t like she doesn’t know Oliver is having drinks with SPB… But from the moment she remembered that Sara’s out of range, her mind has only thought about one thing: calling Oliver.  
  
Swallowing hard, Felicity thinks about hanging up, saying it was a butt dial or blame it on a ghost or something wacky like that. Make light of it and finding another way to get herself up off the floor. But as she looks up at the ceiling — an unsuccessful way to help fight off traitorous tears from welling up — she unconsciously uses her hand to push up her non-existent glasses. Her annoying nervous tick causes her cut to sting as the edge of her eyebrow feels like it’s been sliced and diced during a gory horror movie. Blood covers her fingertips as she pulls away to inspect the sticky residue she feels there.  
  
She must have whimpered. Or winced. Or let out a blood-curdling scream. Ironic, because you know, the blood. She doesn’t really know. She’s never been good at the sight of blood. Not on cop shows, not in conversations and definitely not when it’s related to her.  
  
All she knows is that Oliver is talking rapidly, sobered and concerned, calling her name like she’s the only one that matters.  
  
“Felicity? Felicity! Are you okay? What happened?” he asks worriedly. His voice is clear but there’s an edge to it as the background music fades almost instantly, replacing the hard beats with a soft, tinny, echoey sound like he has stepped into the bathroom for peace and quiet.  
  
Preparing to steady her voice the best she can, Felicity takes a deep breath and waits a few seconds before parting her dry lips to speak. Obviously those few seconds are a few too many for the man on the other end of the phone because Oliver speaks again.  
  
“Talk to me, honey.”  
  
His tone is low and so soft, a familiar one that Felicity is quickly recognizing as hers, but this time it’s just above a whisper like he’s _begging_ her to speak. To let him know she’s okay. To tell him she’s there safe and sound. Pairing it with the sharp echoing steps in the background, a telltale sign of pacing, she can basically feel the tension and concern oozing from him down the line.  
  
It breaks her. It calms her. It warms her.  
  
She doesn’t have any words to describe how she’s feeling toward Oliver Queen in this moment. Maybe except one word, but she’s trying to squash that down so deep that her heart forgets it ever felt that way.  
  
A silent tear flow down her cheek as she bites back a slight sob.  
  
“I-I’ve fallen out of my chair,” she says so shakily that she hates the way she sounds. “I think I cut my head.”  
  
There’s a long line of harsh curses from Oliver before the music pipes up momentarily then it’s back to quiet for the sound of an engine revving — suspiciously like a motorbike —only for Oliver break the quiet again.  
  
“I’m on my way.”

⇄

  
It feels like only minutes that Felicity has had to pull herself together and embody the strong, calm-natured woman she had once been when her front door slams open — obviously the key under the mat is the hero in this, she didn’t even think about if the door was locked — to reveal an out-of-breath Oliver, calling her name rapidly.  
  
“Felicity?”  
  
“Here,” she calls back from her position within the self-inflicted crime scene. To be honest, she’s super proud that she doesn’t break down right this second. She has always found it hard to keep up her sturdy exterior when somebody finds her in a vulnerable position. Not because she’s weak and looking for sympathy but because it’s a mixture of embarrassment that she has gotten herself into a stupid situation once again and relief that she’s finally safe, no longer having to be in ‘survivor’ mode. Having to think resourcefully and being on alert while basically helpless is so damn draining.  
  
 So she forces a smile to convince him she’s okay, even if Oliver can’t see her face yet. Also, if she doesn’t smile, she’ll cry. And she doesn’t to look more pathetic than she already does. Not even her cute Harry Potter PJs can save her now.  
  
_God,_ she hopes when Oliver rounds that kitchen bench that she doesn't find pity-filled eyes or a clinical look on his face like others would do in this situation, like they are assessing how to fix the problem while feeling sorry for her without actually considering how she’s feeling. But when he turns the corner, there’s none of it — his eyes are wild and frantic, his face dripping with fear when he takes her in.  
  
It makes her eyes well up.  
  
“So, yeah — I went to war with the floor and lost,” she wryly says, avoiding his intense stare, hiding behind a joke as she shrugs and gestures to the mess around her. Digg would say something about using humor as a shield if he was here. But he’s not, so the comedy routine is here to stay.  
  
 “Unfortunately, there were casualties but they died for the cause.”  
  
She gives a dry chuckle, happy with that line as she looks up to Oliver, expecting a small twitch of lips and kind eyes. But she doesn’t find that at all.  
  
All Felicity finds is a frown and watery eyes.  
  
The sound of mug shard crunching under heavy weight breaks the silence as Oliver drops to his knees in front of her.  
  
“Baby…” he whispers, and the word is laced with a softness and protectiveness that complements the gentle touch of his hands as he cups her face, wiping the rebel tear that runs down her cheek with his thumb.  
  
The instant the endearment reaches Felicity’s ears, she’s done for. All the fear, the frustration, the helplessness that had been swirling around in her stomach starts to overwhelm her senses and rise up her throat until it escapes. The sobs shake her tiny frame as tears blur her vision and slide down her neck. Her lungs feel like they’re on fire as she gasps for oxygen between cries. She doesn’t know she’s reaching out and clutching at Oliver until she feels him scoop her up and settle her down onto his lap. He pulls her close to his chest and tucks her head under his chin, rocking her ever so softly.  
  
Right there, in the middle of her kitchen surrounded by broken mug and her chair carelessly pushed off to the side where she left it, for the first time ever in 5 years Felicity gets held tightly.  
  
No clinical assessments. No immediate checks. No fussing mothers or worried Saras trying to get her back in her chair as soon as possible.  
  
She just gets _held._ Warm. Safe. Loving.  
   
By the man she’s falling in love with.  
  
(Who’s technically out on a date with another woman. But she’s gonna ignore that small, tiny detail for now.)  
  
Soothing words flow out of him as he peppers small kisses wherever he can reach, alternating from her temple to her bare shoulder to her hair in a pattern that’s so wildly foreign to them yet there's a familiarity about the gesture that eases her.  
  
“Hey, hey. You’re safe. I’m here,” Oliver murmurs into her ear, placing a soft kiss under it before guiding her head into the nook of his neck. One of his strong arms wraps tightly around her as his other hand slips under her white tank, immediately finding her lower back to stroke soothing circles. “You’re safe, that’s all that matters.”  
  
Shivering at his words and touch, Felicity buries herself closer to Oliver. She let the warmth of his chest and the beat of his heart under her clenched fist in his shirt wash over her as she tries to steady her breathing until it feels like she’s not in an airtight room.  
  
It seems like hours — no, a lifetime — as they sit silently on her kitchen floor, hugging. Oliver keeps up his ministrations while Felicity begins to finally come down from her weep fest. She should be even more mortified that she allowed herself to basically shower her very, _very_ gorgeous boss-friend in her snot and tears. Like, seriously. She’s pretty sure Oliver is covered in her gross bodily fluids, saw her at her absolute _worst_ and here he still is, planting cute kisses on her head and rubbing her back like he _knows_ what it does to her — and he’s not flinching away. Like he accepts her and all of her tears.  
  
So she should be mortified but she’s not. Actually, she’s more calm and at peace than she’s ever been after a fall. Her hand starts to loosen its grip on his shirt, slide slowly until it reaches his army tags that are out on display and absentmindedly play with the cool metal in her palm.  
  
The jingle of the chain breaks the moment.  
  
“Tell me what happened, Felicity,” Oliver asks softly into her hair as the arm around her waist shifts so that he can brush the wispy strands that escaped from her top knot away from her face.  
  
Focusing on her fingers spinning the small metal rectangle hanging from his neck, she shrugs — the movement causing her shoulder to dig into him more.  
  
“I don’t know.” Her voice is hoarse from crying so she stops to clear her throat. “I was about to make iced coffee and hop into bed to read when suddenly I’m on the floor with a cut on my head and a smashed mug. It happened so fast!”  
  
“Have you checked—”  
  
She knows what he’s asking. She’s surprised he didn’t ask sooner. Most people ask before they go near her. The worst thing is that they don’t believe her when they do, taking on the responsibility to check themselves. It's the most humiliating thing she experiences after a fall. She just hopes this won't be another time like that.  
  
She puts a hand on Oliver’s shoulder and tries to push herself up so she can look into his eyes when she says this but the hand on her back gently presses her down again. Felicity takes this as an invitation to snuggle back into his neck, inhaling his unique Oliver scent and fiddle with his tags again. She sighs at the way his scruff prickles her forehead gloriously and how his breath on her neck heats her insides.  
  
“My legs,” she acknowledges as she stares at her limp limbs hanging on the other side of Oliver’s lap, “are fine. First thing I checked. Nothing feels broken.”  
  
Relief and gratitude fill her as Oliver only hums in acceptance. He trusts her to know her own body. She can’t say that about most people.  
  
A beat passes then, as Felicity gets caught up in her thoughts. She thinks about the metal warming in her hand and the owner who wears it. Wanting to see him fully, Felicity sits up to study Oliver. And for the first time that night, she noticed how good he looks. He’s in a black henley t-shirt that showcase his muscles, dark blue jeans and brown boots.  
  
He’s so… _ugh_! Especially when he flashes that smile her way. A pang of jealousy hits her when she remembers he’s not dressed for her. But for a date.  
  
Swallowing the bitterness down, Felicity focuses back on the tags. She narrows her brows and says what’s exactly on her mind.  
  
“I like how you still wear your tags. You’re not scared of your past,” she tells him honestly, patting his chest where the metal lays before sliding her hand over his heart.  
  
_Unlike her_ , she wants to add.  
  
He owns being a soldier. Wears it on his literal sleeve. All she’s ever done is hide from that night in Boston and the months after. Buried it so far down that she pretends to have moved on, forcing her mother to do the same.  
  
She respects the hell out of Oliver for never hiding.  
  
“I am, honey,” Oliver admits with a sad smile, tucking a fallen curl behind her ear, as the hand on her back slides to her waist, his palm resting there like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I don’t wear these in pride. Of course, I wear them for my brothers too. But also, I wear these as a reminder of my mistakes.”  
  
“But—” Felicity argues.  
  
_Lord_ , how can he say that? He should be so proud of what he has achieved. He has fought for his country, saved so many innocent lives, built hospitals for the sick and schools for the underprivileged. Whatever his mistakes are, they must not outweigh all the good he did on his tours. She’s so sure of it. Although she has her own demons, Felicity can’t imagine what soldiers go through on tour, what they must see some days, and she wouldn’t want to try to understand their demons. She doesn’t have the right to. But she knows deep in her heart that Oliver’s mistakes were never made with bad intentions.  
  
Hopefully one day he’ll open up to her about them. And that day, she’ll be there ready to listen and try to ease his mind.  
  
“Shhh,” Oliver interrupts, his thumb brushing over her jaw. The sad smile is back as he shakes his head then whispers, “They should be worn in pride though. For a strong soldier who wears big smile on her face despite her battles every day.That’s who should be wearing them. Not me.”  
  
His hand goes to the chain around his neck, pulls it up over his head and slides it over her own. It hangs heavy around her neck and his name shines in the kitchen light against her ribs. She stares at it in awe. She shouldn’t be allowed to wear this. She’s not worthy. She isn’t a soldier. She hasn’t risked her life for the better cause.  
  
She’s just Felicity Smoak. A girl who just stumbles along in life with a few more difficulties than others, that’s all.  
  
“Oliver…” she breathes, her voice laced with emotion as her heart sits in her throat. Tears threaten to fall as she holds back another sob.  
  
No, she can’t let him do this. She tries to pull the chain off but Oliver stops her, meeting her gaze so intensely that it feels like he’s looking at her soul.  
  
The moment is broken when Oliver frowns and touches her eyebrow softly, making her wince in pain.  
  
“We should look at that head of yours. I’ll call Tommy.”  
  
Felicity shakes her head. She doesn’t want Tommy here. She doesn’t want anyone here but him.  
  
“C-can’t you do it? I mean, if it gets worse I’ll see Tommy at ARGUS tomorrow. But for now, I just want you.”  
  
She knows how that sounds. She doesn’t care.  
  
It’s the truth in a sense.  
  
Because she’s in love with him.  
  
This is the moment when she accepts it. Felicity is 100% madly in love with Oliver. No trying to hide it. No excuses. Just the truth.  
  
She _loves_ him.  
  
“Okay.” He nods like he knows what she means. Like he’s fine with her loving him. With a sexyhalf smile, Oliver pulls her in for a hug and buries his nose in her neck. She can feel his smile before he pulls back after a short minute. “Where is your first aid kit?”  
  
“Umm it should be in my bathroom ensuite. Uh, it’s down the hallway, second door on your left,” she says nervously, biting her lip.  
  
The idea of Oliver going into her room, her inner bubble, makes her head spin. She hasn’t dared to imagine it, not even in her dreams. Not that she had _dreams_ about Oliver, but if she did — they would kinda, sorta end up as sexy, dirty ones…  
  
Okay, she totally had a sexy, dirty dream about Oliver. Once. Twice? Fine, a LOT.  
  
Hey! She can’t be blamed. Not with all that muscle and stunning face of his. And add in the feeling she finally accepts for him now...  
  
So yeah, imagining him in her room isn’t allowed. Her heart doesn’t need that kind of fuel when it needs to start behaving again. After tonight, the Friend Zone Card needs to come out in full force.  
  
Stupid army tags. Stupid heart. Stupid man making her love him.  
  
Suddenly, Felicity feels herself being lifted up bridal style in strong, capable arms as her new accessory jingles. She expects Oliver to put her in her chair but she squeaks in surprise when he holds her tight and squeezes. He smiles brightly down at her with sparkling blue eyes as they make their way through the living room and down the hallway, giving her a playful peck on the cheek.  
  
“Oliver, what are you—”  
  
“You’re coming with me.”

  
⇄

 **9:03pm  
  
** If someone had told her on Monday that Oliver would be carrying her to her room tonight instead being on his date, Felicity would have laughed uncontrollably until she cried.  
  
And probably called them batshit crazy.  
  
But here she is, cradled to his broad chest as he walks down the hallway and steps into her room, crossing the space to her ensuite. Though, uncertainty makes her quiet. She’s not going to question the whys, or the hows or even the ‘what about your date?’That’s for later, when she’s upright in her chair, with a clear mind and loads of space between them.  
  
Because right now, the closeness is making her dizzy. Perhaps she has a concussion that she’s not aware of?Because it’s like she’s living a real life fantasy. Except it’s not going to turn sexy all of the sudden. It’s more like it’s going to turn awkward and painful when he treats her cuts.  
  
Still, she’s fallen right under his spell. The blush on her cheeks is permanent and she can’t help but smile through the pain whenever those hypnotic blues eyes fall on her to check if she’s okay. He smiles softly when he scans her colourful room, like he’s seeing an extension of her and that only makes the fantasy more palpable as her heart skips a beat.  
  
Oliver turns her ensuite light on effortlessly with her still in his arms and sits her down smoothly on her bathroom counter, gently nudging her knees apart so he can slip in between them. The move is simply so hot that Felicity isn’t under a cute spell anymore.  
  
Nope. she’s past that. She’s a woman possessed.  
  
Apparently when hot men, especially men who she recently realises she loves, pull hot stunts like that — stunts that are made for romance novels — Felicity gets a tad lusty and handsy.  
  
Who knew? Well, she does now. _Duh.  
  
_ Because she’s gasping breathlessly and grabbing the sides of Oliver’s t-shirt like she’s about to pull him closer. A bolt of electricity runs down her spine when she takes in the image of him between her thighs as his warm breath fans her face, checking the wound there. But she stops herself, because, _WOW._  
  
WHAT IS WRONG WITH HER?  
  
Yeah, she _definitely_ has a concussion.  
  
The man is only attending her wounds, not trying to recreate a steamy bathroom scene where it ends with both of them naked in the shower. Of course, he could've put her on the toilet lid where it’s safer but he didn’t. Now he’s only standing between her limp legs to stop her from falling while he uses his hands.  
  
Her point is proven when Oliver seems to mistake her lusty, handsy fingers clutching at his sides for fear of her falling again.  
  
“Hey, hey, I have you,” he says in her special voice as his hold on her waist tightens. “Now, where’s your first aid kit?”  
  
Yeah, he definitely has her. With her heart. With how her treats her. With how he touches her — don’t think she hasn’t noticed the way he only touches her waist and not her hips. He does it because she can feel his touch there. Sneaky, wonderful, evil man.  
  
Honestly, she’s so grateful to have that spell broken with the mention of the kit. She needs to think clearly. She doesn't need to be caught up in the whimsical idea of romance and lust she seems to have conjured up tonight, despite her feeling epiphany. And as she points to the top drawer of the vanity and watches Oliver rummage through it, she remembers why she feels a heaviness around her neck. She looks down to see Oliver’s tags hanging like a overbearing weight.  
  
She doesn’t deserve to wear these. She wanted to give them back right away but Oliver stopped her and changed the subject. It’s too intimate of a gesture between friends. Also, Oliver should have them no matter what. Her brain keeps going over what he said about his past. It upsets her that he doesn’t see the good in it. He’s the most honourable and kindest man she’s ever met.  
  
Carefully sliding the chain over her head, Felicity dangles the tags in the space between them and waits for Oliver to finish placing the kit on the bench and look up at her with an adorable confused look on his face when he sees his tags.  
  
“What are you doing?”  
  
“Giving these back...”  
  
“But they are my gift to you.”  
  
“Oliver,” she sighs, placing one hand on his shoulder while the one holding the tags goes to rest over his heart. She looks earnestly into his wild blue eyes and hopes he’ll listen to what she has to say. Surely the cut on her head is distracting —she would be, but then she hates the sight of blood; she isn’t a soldier like a certain gorgeous someone.  
  
“While I appreciate this very, very _sweet_ gesture and I’m so honored that you would even want me to have them, of all people,. I can’t accept these.”  
  
She shakes her head when he goes to protest, lips parting for a second before he closes them and frowns. She continues in a soft tone.  
  
“It’s not about me accepting these as a gift. It’s about you accepting the meaning of them. You say that you wear them to remind you of your mistakes. I don’t think that’s true, Oliver. I think you do wear them in pride. You must be somewhat proud of what you’ve done in the army?”  
  
“I am, except I’ve…” Oliver whispers, guilt and shame entering his features as he drops his head, avoiding her gaze as he trails off.  
  
Oh no, she’s not having it. Whatever he thinks he’s done that is so bad — it couldn’t be that bad, could it?  
  
“Except what, Oliver?” she says firmly, desperately wanting to know more. But it isn't about that now, it’s about him knowing his mistakes aren’t everything. She cups his face and forces him to look up at her, remembering the times he’s mentioned his tours to her. “Your actions show all the good you’ve done. Think about all the lives you saved there. All the lives that you help here at ARGUS. This is what these tags represent. They don’t represent your mistakes, Oliver.”  
  
She reaches up and sets the chain around his neck — where it belongs — and she smiles as she pats the tags when they settle on his chest perfectly.  
  
“They represent the goodness in you.”  
  
The smile and the intense look she gets from him make her flush and bite her lip shyly.  
  
“Thank you, Felicity,” Oliver breathes, his voice filled with such emotion that it wavers on her name. She doesn’t know why he’s thanking her, but he doesn’t have to. Felicity’s only telling the truth.  
  
“I should be thanking you!” She grins, waving her speech off like it was nothing. “ _You_ are the one who rescued me from that evil floor.”  
  
Oliver sighs, then smiles and laughs a little, his thumb causing goosebumps to form on her waist where it somehow got under her tank.  
  
“You don’t ever have to thank me.”  
  
They sit in silence for a moment as the emotional words they both shared washes over them and they watch each other intently. It’s Oliver who springs into action first, jolting as if as he just remembered where they are and why.  
  
“Right,” he says seriously as he grabs an antiseptic wipe from the bench and rips it open. “Your head.”  
  
Nerves take over her entire body as Felicity watches the little white piece of stingy pain in Oliver’s hand slowly coming closer to her eyebrow. She gulps and pretends to cough as a cover to hide her jitters.  
  
“So, I’m just gonna close my eyes and go to my happy place while, you know, you clean the blood,” she says with as much bravado as she can, flicking her wrist like it’s no big deal that the wipe is gonna come back all red and gross and she’s gonna have to look as if she’s not going to act like a five year old.  
  
Yep, she’s totally cool like that. Subtle as Jim’s crush on Pam from _The Office_.  
  
“Seeing blood vs. not seeing blood?” Oliver asks simply, referring to their question game from when they first met. His hand stops and hovers over her brow, waiting for her to answer.  
  
She shrugs and makes a tiny whimper. “Not seeing blood.”  
  
She knows it’s stupid, it’s just blood. It’s basically red paint compare to other things she’s witnessed. Being in and out of hospital so many times gives you a special kind of tolerance for gross stuff. But blood? One bad experience with a trainee doctor and an IV drip and she’s scarred for life.  
  
Oliver’s face softens as he puts down the wipe, picks up her hands and holds them while he speaks.  
  
“It’s okay. You can close your eyes while I take care of the rest, okay?”  
  
Nodding, she closes her eyes and tightens her grip on him in anticipation for the sting. It comes, first on her brow — harsh and hard — and she winces so much that she jumps, and a lone tear escapes and rolls down her cheek. But then it fades when she hears Oliver speak.  
  
“What book were you going to read tonight?”  
  
He’s distracting her as he slowly and measuredly wipes the cuts on her arms. It should sting more, but it doesn’t. It tingles as her veins warm wherever his fingertips drag down her skin.  
  
She holds back a shiver and swallows.  
  
“Harry Potter.”  
  
Her answer should embarrassed her. She’s a 23-year-old woman who spends her night reading about wizards and magic in her matching wizard PJs. Fangirl much?  
  
But when she hears Oliver’s smile in his voice as his fingertips still touch her arm, she doesn’t give a damn.  
  
“Which book?”  
  
“Sorcerer's Stone.”  
  
“So, a full re-read then?”  
  
“I didn’t peg you as a Harry fan.”  
  
“I’m not, but Thea was obsessed before I left,” Oliver explains, his breath fanning across her forehead, making Felicity gulp as she squeezes her closed eyes even more in anticipation of where he’s going to touch her next. Felicity tenses as the air around her shifts and the heat from Oliver feels incredibly close. She can basically feel his chest move when he speaks. It makes her want to reach up and pull his lips to hers, just to see what it feels like to kiss the man that’s between her legs.  
  
Oh _Hufflepuff!_ She shouldn’t feel like this. Not in her situation. She’s injured and most likely, probably concussed, and the man in front her is only here to help her and clean her cuts…  
  
But, nope, she has to get all hot and bothered over his closeness and his soft touch and the way he talks Harry Potter.  
  
“To be honest, I’ve never read them myself.”  
  
Okay. _  
  
Okay.  
  
_ Way to kill the mood, mister. Maybe a one-sided mood where she gets hot over Oliver Queen discussing fictional magic wizards, but it’s a mood nonetheless.  
  
Her eyes pop open in disbelief and shock to find Oliver silently laughing as his hands holding a bandage poised over her wound.  
  
She pouts confusedly. What sort of person knows Harry Potter exists and doesn’t read the books?! That’s a crime. No, it's a tragedy. A tragic crime where they should be sent to Azkaban until they finish reading every last word.  
  
“Um, WHAT?” she half yells, half gasps. “You’ve never— I can’t believe— Oliver, I have no words.”  
  
A deep, joyous laugh fills the room as Oliver puts a hand to his chest, obviously enjoying her outrage. His blue eyes shine as he watches her in adoration.  
  
“Felicity, baby, just keep your eyes closed,” he demands huskily, preparing the bandage again. “I’m nearly finished. You can go all Scary Felicity on me later, okay?”  
  
This time she can’t hold the shiver back. And she flushes as she closes her eyes. That’s the second time he’s called her that tonight. Even though it’s weird because they are _just friends_ , Felicity hates to admit that she kinda likes it. She wouldn’t mind if he keeps calling her that. Forever.  
  
It’s minutes later when Oliver murmurs that he’s done and that the cuts on her arms are shallow enough for to not need bandages. Felicity’s lids blink open to see Oliver shuffle out from between her legs and she immediately feels the lost. But he doesn’t go far, as she’s suddenly back in those strong arms and heading into her room.  
  
“Oof! Oliver, stop doing that!!” she cries out in annoyance, a playful slap to the his shoulder shows that she doesn’t mean it all all. “Where are are you taking me now?”  
  
With the most charming smile she ever seen, Oliver winks at her and then gently throws her on the bed, making her bounce as she looks up at him in shock.  
  
“You get set up here while I go clean up the mess, then we’ll read Harry Potter,” he tells her as he points to her, then in the direction of the kitchen, then back to where to her book lays on the bed. “Seeing how _offended_ you are about me not reading them.”  
  
_Huh?_ Has she entered an alternate universe right now? A universe where Oliver chooses her over the SPB McKenna?  
  
“No, no!” she objects, scrambling so that she’s sitting against her headboard. “Oliver, you can just put me in my chair and go back to your… night.”  
  
_Date,_ she wanted to say. The night is still young for late night _drinks.  
  
_ For some reason it’s Oliver who looks offended now. He bends down and puts a hand on her forearm, his thumb tracing a shallow cut there — like the sheer will of his touch could heal it.  
  
“Do you think I can leave you now?” he questions, his intense stare going over every cut until he reaches the bandaged wound on her head. “You’re mistaken if you think I can.”  
  
The intensity of the words hit her straight in the heart. She gulps and part her lips to say anything. Anything to make it playful again. She can’t take this crackling atmosphere. She’s already been on an emotional rollercoaster tonight. And now she wants off.  
  
He must take pity on her because he stands up and heads to the door. Once he’s there, he spins around, hand on the door frame and throws her a panty-dropping smirk.  
  
“By the way, you’re reading to me. And I want voices.”

  
⇄

 **11:32pm  
**  
“Felicity, I don’t care what you say — I’m staying on the couch!”  
  
“No, Oliver! _Please._ You’ve already gone above and beyond tonight. I’ll be okay, go home!”  
  
It’s the battle of wills. Felicity attempts to turn from where she lays under her fluffy purple duvet, but fails from lack of energy and instead lifts her head up from the pillow to give Oliver her best _I’m-not-gonna-slip-into-a-coma-from-a-concussion_ glare.  
  
Oliver’s wearing a matching look — however, it’s laced with worry and concern more than anything harsh. But it’s being undermined by how gorgeous he looks resting against the headboard as his sock-covered feet crossed in front of him on _her_ bed — _next to her —_ boots carelessly thrown on the floor.  
  
She might be trying to be serious, but her puddle of goo insides tell another story. She’s loving the sight, even if she knows the sight has to leave to go to his own bed. For _so many reasons_.  
  
The night had started with her reading out loud with little laughter involved, and shifted to a lot of laugher with no reading at all. They’ve chatted about anything and everything: the plot of the book, working with David that week and just little discussions about life here and there.  
  
But there’s one subject that she’s been avoiding: his date with McKenna. Or the lack of him being on it because of her.  
  
Yeah, she’s being a coward. She knows. But she can’t seem to bring herself to ask and break the fun, smiley, bantering bubble that they’ve created for themselves. She could blame wanting to have their usual conversation for a little while longer after having a such emotional and taxing night but…  
  
That’d be a total lie.  
  
 It all comes down to the fact that she has no idea how to act around Oliver now that she’s in _love_ with him. It’s hard now that she’s given up the pretense of denying her feelings. Before, it was too easy to ignore her emotions. She could pretend the spark that grew after the gala wasn’t there. Say that he didn’t feel it and he was off dating other people.  
  
But tonight threw her. And now she’s unsure how to act in front of her friend. Of course, she’ll never let anything happen. She couldn’t give him, or anyone for matter, what they wanted.  
  
However, her heart is making it harder _not_ to notice every little thing he does and swoon. The combination of those damned tags and the bathroom nearly made Felicity kiss him. But for the sake of their friendship — which she really, _really_ values — she can’t be all lovesick around him in the future.  
  
So when she yawned before — feeling drained from the night’s events, because falling out of a wheelchair and trying to get back up _does_ tire a girl out — Oliver silently helped her under the covers and offered to stay on the couch because she needs some sleep. She kinda, maybe, freaked out and turned into a super awkward person who wasn’t trying to attack him with heart eyes.  
  
“Fe-li-ci-ty,” Oliver drawls, sighing as Felicity yawns again, then throws his legs over the side of the bed and stands. “I’m staying. You’re tired and need rest but I can’t leave you with a possible concussion.”  
  
“My head is fine!” she protests, rubbing the bandage and wincing at the sharp pain when her fingers push too hard. “See? No bump there!”  
  
_Fine,_ she has to admit it’s still a bit tender and sore but she’ll be okay. She doesn’t need him to take care of her, her heart can shut up already. No matter how tempting it is to let this go and let him stay, he’s already done and sacrifice so much tonight.  
  
She watches him roll his eyes playfully and grabs the first pillow he sees, ignoring her objections. Oliver rounds the bed to her side, giving her a lopsided grin as he lifts up the pillow and hooks a thumb over his shoulder.  
  
“I’m going to go watch some TV but call me if you need anything.”  
  
For some reason, those words hit her right in the gut. He’s here out of duty. He was on a date, and he sounded happy when she called. She wrecked _that_ by calling him here to help. Now he’s only here because she’s hurt and obviously he’s under the impression that he has to stay in case she needs something.  
  
He’s gonna stay on the couch and watch TV while she sleeps when he probably should be getting laid by now.  
  
( _And not by her_ , her brain meanly adds.  
  
As if she would ever get laid anyway. It’s unthinkable.)  
  
Oh. My. God. She is the worst friend in the world. She’s been so selfish. She could have searched for Digg’s number but she didn’t. She didn’t think about Oliver’s plans at all, except that she needed him there with her.  
  
The words just spill out of her. Guilt ridden and ashamed.  
  
“I’m so sorry for ruining your date!”  
  
Embarrassment eats her alive as she hauls herself into a sitting position and buries her tomato-colored face into her hands — intentionally hiding from the man who is staring at her blankly.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
He sounds amused yet there’s a hint of surprise in his tone. Almost like he isn’t expecting that apology to fly out of her mouth. Geez, she might be a coward but she isn’t rude. It would have come out eventually. Apparently not soon enough, because there’s silence filling the space and there's no way she’s looking up to get a glimpse of the judgemental face she guesses he’s wearing.  
  
He’s making her spell it out, isn’t he? Like some sort of karmic payback for making him miss out on tantric sex.  
  
“You know! You date with the stunning McKenna? I ruined it.” Felicity winces. The words are muffled by her hands until a the memory of the sound his motorbike so soon after she called him hits her and she bolts up with wide eyes and flaily arms. “Oh my god, please tell me you didn’t just leave her there…”  
  
The shuffle of his feet and the sheepish look on his handsome face as he rolls his lips together is everything Felicity needs to know.  
  
“Oliver!!” she wails, running her hands through her hair before hiding her face in them again and groans pitfully. “What were you thinking?!”  
  
_Frack._ This could look bad to McKenna. Not to mention everything that has happened tonight. There’s been something underlining here that continues to grow as they spend more time with each other. She’s not a homewrecker. Or at least a date ruiner. He’s all McKenna’s. But he has to remind McKenna of that. Possibly Felicity’s heart too.  
  
“I thought you were _hurt,_ Felicity!” Oliver exclaims, and Felicity feels the edge of the bed dip and large, rough hands lightly pull hers away from her face but she holds her ground. “I sent her a text. She’s fine with it.”  
  
WTF? A _text?_ He sent his girlfriend a text to say he was ditching her to go to see another woman because she called? Oh god, this is worse than she thought. Taking a breath, she’s about to tell Oliver to go home, go see McKenna and explain when he speaks again.  
  
“Hey. _Hey,_ ” he calls softly, his hands try to pull hers away again. “Look at me.”  
  
Slowly Felicity lifts her head up to see Oliver smiling and shaking his head in mirth. His fingers immediately find the skin of her inner wrist and trace lazy patterns there to soothe her.  
  
“McKenna and I are _just_ friends. We went out for a drink because we haven’t hung out in a while,” he explains, cupping her cheek. “Plus, I’m not a certain clueless, reformed-playboy ER doctor.”  
  
Felicity frowns. “Wait, McKenna and Tommy are a thing?”  
  
“Ehh, more like a mess.” Oliver shrugs, chuckling. “Ever since they first met in ethics class, freshman year of college. It’s been a disaster. They both have no idea how the other one feels.”  
  
“Wow,” Felicity laughs in surprise before quickly calculating how _Tommy_ , with all his antics, and _McKenna,_ with all her detective-ness would work. She nods. “Yeah, I can see it.”  
  
“You do?” Oliver asks with an arch eyebrow before rolling his eyes. “I mean, it’s taken them both until now to admit that they _may_ have feelings for the other.”  
  
“The badass cop and the playboy doctor? _Totally._ I ship it.”  
  
“Ugh, not you too!” Oliver grimaces, crunching up his face in disgust, making Felicity giggle. “Thea keeps saying that she ships it.”  
  
There’s something how he adds, “Well, Thea ships everything these days.”  
  
It’s almost like he’s shy to say whatever he’s thinking. He looks down at the duvet instead of her, his cheeks pinken as he slides his hands from hers and rest on either side of her knees. There’s a hidden meaning behind those words, _something_ that he doesn’t want her to know yet. However the subtle suggestive tone in his voice is hinting to whatever he’s not saying.  
  
She knows what he’s hinting at. She kinda guess it at the gala when the younger woman was watching her and Oliver like a hawk with a smirk the entire night. Although the thought of being ship with Oliver makes her queasy. Because that ships never gonna sail and poor Thea’s shipper heart is going to be left slaughtered. Maybe next time she speaks to the other Queen, Felicity can mention.. Tomenna? McTom? To steer her little, sassy fangirl friend from Olicity.  
  
Oh _god_ ,Felicity’s hoping that Thea doesn’t have the chance to meet Sara. EVER. Because between the two of them, somehow Olicity definitely would get trademarked.  
  
“The shipping life is hardcore.” she supplies, giving a one shouldered shrug as she picks an imaginary thread on the purple duvet she’s snuggled under.  
  
The mood changes then. It’s more quieter, more serious, more tense — even though they’re just talking about Thea’s shipping habits. Felicity knows it’s more than that. They’re talking without really talking about what’s in the room. The current of electricity, the spark that ignites the room whenever they are together.  
  
And even though it’s in code, Felicity knows Oliver is making the first move in talking about it when he breaks the moment.  
  
“So, is there anybody I should ship you with? Any Bruce Wayne types?” he half jokes, but the uncertainty in his tone is evident.  
  
It breaks Felicity’s heart.  
  
Her heart breaks even more when she raises her gaze to his to find his piercing blue eyes so unsure, so hesitant yet there’s a hint of hopefulness to them that makes her worry her lip between her teeth.  
  
Her soul is shouting ‘ _You, ship me with you.’  
_  
But her head knows better, telling her that she’s knows what she needs to do. So, with a deep breath and tightly pinched eyes — she prepares to break both of their hearts, well at least her own, and the idea of them ever being _more_ in one single conversation.  
  
“Me?” she laughs, she tries to sound amused but it comes out dry and emotionless. “I don’t think there will ever be a ship that contains Felicity Smoak.”  
  
Oliver looks so earnest when he shrugs and reaches for her hand, his thumb brushing across her knuckles. “I don’t know about that.”  
  
Frack. _Frack._ Fucking frack. Maybe his heart _is_ in this, unaware that it’s about to be broken into tiny pieces. This is, like, a trillion times worse than she thought. Now, she has to put up the wall that’s more icy than the North Pole itself. It’s the only way she’ll survive this and come out alive.  
  
Snatching her hand out under his, and she internally winces when she hears Oliver’s tiny gasp. She scratches her hairline to avoid the shocked look on his face. She wills her detached attitude to come out. It’s easier to act distant with what she’s about to say.  
  
“Look, relationships and everything that comes with it, well, it’s just not for me.” She rasps matter of factly, but her voice trembles the slightest bit and she hates it. Felicity can’t even meet his confused gaze, opting to pick her magenta nail polish instead. If she looks at Oliver, she’ll break. “It’s not, like, I don’t want to. Or not being able to have, you know, _sex,_ is the reason that is stopping me…”  
  
Good _lord_ , did she really bring up _sex_ right now? In front of the hottest guy on the planet, the guy who makes her stomach drop and her insides burn in the best possible way.  
  
She did. And now she’s blushing and flailing and trying to zip her lips because she can feel an embarrassing, awkward, _please-shoot-me-now_ babble about how…  
  
Pre accident, 17 year old Felicity had reached all the bases but never made a home run.  
  
Making her flustered, self conscious 23 year old self, a virgin.  
   
“Because, I can. I think. The doctors say I can _feel_ things inside down there,” She gestures to her lower half, groaning in humiliation because... Can. She. Get. Any. More. Embarrassing? Obviously she can, because her traitorous lips keep moving without permission. “When the _action_ happens, but I’ve haven’t— I’ve not—”  
  
She can’t even finish that sentence. What happen to being cold and aloof, and shutting down whatever this is between her and Oliver? She didn’t sign up to blurt her virginal status to the man she’s in love with.  
  
Talk about being sad and pathetic.  
  
Sliding down, Felicity slithers down the bed until she’s fully covered with the duvet. She squeezes her eyes shut and she quietly whimpers, wishing the universe could make her disappear. This wasn’t the plan.  
  
Oliver only gives her a few seconds of refuge under the safety of her fluffy covers —hiding away from the awkward situation she created for herself — until he pulls the covers off her, chuckling softly. As the light from her bedroom shines on her eyelids, she opens them to see Oliver looking at her with warm affection. His smile is understanding but as his blue eyes darken, Felicity realises he’s not getting the point.  
  
“Hey, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. That was probably the last thing on your mind after the accident.” He tells her soothingly, reaching out to play with her hand again. “I’m sure when the times right, you’ll meet the right partner and _things_ will happen, Felicity.”  
  
She gulps at how low and huskily his voice is, like he’s thinking about right partners and _things_ happening — like he’s willing to be that partner.  
  
_Holy Google_ , he’s definitely not getting the point and his heart is definitely in this. She gets that now. But FRACK. She has to put a stop to this. Before he changes his mind and she dies as a lonely, bitter old lady with 69 cats and one broken heart from her 20’s.  
  
Hey, she might be reading into this way too much. Right? He hasn’t said anything out loud — like, _“Hey Felicity, I want to bone you and become Olicity and have a life with you.”  
_  
So, she can totally put a stop to this.  
  
Wiggling upwards so her head is on her headboard and she shakes it, then focuses on their hands that lay entwined on her lap.  
  
“It won’t, Oliver.” She murmurs, catching his eye so he understands. “Trust me, I know from experience."  
  
His hand freezes slightly before continuing tracing her fingers with his thumb, and he arches a wary but questioning brow in her direction.  
  
Felicity sighs, smacking her lips nervously as a sudden wave of sadness and hurt hits her. It’s like she’s reliving that night in her hospital room again when she looks up and stares into cobalt eyes. These eyes are different from the harsh, uncaring ones from all those years ago, but the memory still haunts her.  
  
“My ex…” She explains, watching Oliver go rigid at her voice. “Let’s just say he made it very clear that disabilities and wheelchairs are a big turn offs for guys…and he’s right.”  
  
She tries to give Oliver a reassuring smile but it doesn't help as Oliver’s jaw clenches. His face turns stormy. For some reason, it makes her heart flutter.  
  
“It’s okay,” Felicity cooes, her fingers link with his. Her thumb rubs over his soothingly. “I mean, I get it. A relationship with me wouldn’t be _that_ normal. All this extra work, like picking me up off the floor sometimes.” She jokes, giving him a lopsided grin. “Plus, I can’t seduced anyone with wheels… unless they have a rubber kink. That’s kinda creepy to think about.”  
  
There’s a deep urge to comfort him about this, like she did about the doors that first day. She doesn’t know why she feels like she needs to, he hasn’t confirmed what she already suspects — that _this_ isn’t one sided. She figures if she can convince him that this is how things are, that this is how her life is and they can both accept it and move on.  
  
“No,” Oliver growls. He literally growls. And, _woahhh._ Angry Oliver is ridiculously hot. The way his face twists into murderous rage, like he’s about to snap somebody’s neck has her nearly drooling. It should scare her that she sees _Coop’s_ neck on the on the receiving end of that snapping, but it really doesn’t. “No, he’s wrong! I _swear_ if I see your ex…”  
  
He stops himself then, shaking his head like he doesn’t want to think about what he’d do. His face softens as he focuses on her. Felicity gets the feeling that she’s somehow anchoring him because suddenly she’s getting pulled into a hug. Arms go around her tightly, one hand cupping the back of her head while the other finds it’s recent default spot on her lower back. A shiver runs up her spine as Oliver’s breath hovers over her pulse point and he buries himself into her neck.  
  
“You’re smart, funny, kind, loving— and yes, sometimes you’re scary. Felicity, you’re so _beautiful._ ” He tells her reverently, pulling back and looks into her eyes like he’s about to tell her the most important thing ever. Felicity sighs and leans into his touch when Oliver slides his hand from her hair to stroke her jaw.“Your disability? Your chair? They don’t matter. _You_ matter. And I bet, if you just allow them, guys will be lining up at your feet.”  
_  
_ Her heart stops. Her soul weeps. Her veins hum. Her hand shoots out to clutch his shirt like she did before in her ensuite. Her crystal blue eyes well up. Her world is turned on it’s freaking axis again.  
  
Yet her head isn’t quite there with the rest of her body. It’s still sending out caution bells, warning her to be careful, to stick to her plan, to stay in the safety of the bubble. She’s never wanted to burst that damned bubble so much in her life.  
  
These are the words she needed to hear five years ago, words that are loving, convincing and true. It shocks her how they flow out with such honesty, there’s no misleading or falseness in the tone. No poker faces or broken promises. No watching him walking out that door without a single look back. This isn’t five years ago, but her head continues to argue with her heart.  
  
This is just Oliver and his incredibly handsome truthful smile. Not moving an itch.  
  
Wait, no. He’s leaning towards her until his forehead rests on hers, his hands still holding her tight. It shocks her so much that it renders her speechless — not even her nemo impression makes it out on display.  
  
Felicity Megan Smoak, purely speechless? It’s her own personal Halley's Comet.  
  
She would laugh at the absurdity of all this if she wasn’t so busy studying Oliver dumbfoundedly, with big watery eyes, taking in every curve and line of his face, as he rests against her forehead — looking so at ease with his eyes closed.  
  
“I better let you get some rest, for good this time.” He whispers after a moment. His lips are so close that if she moved an itch, they’d be kissing. She thinks about it for a split second, but before she can decide to do anything, Oliver sits back. He places a kiss on her temple and guides her to lay down. All she can do is let him before watching him move towards the door to leave.  
  
“Oliver?” Felicity croaks out finally. Her voice sounds like she hasn’t spoken in decades rather than minutes. He spins around, leaning on the door frame as he looks at her questioningly.  
  
_God_ , this is a risk. Both for her head and her heart but she really _needs_ to know.“How do you know about, um, the guys lining up?”  
  
“Because the line forms behind me” Oliver muses deeply, shrugging like it’s matter of fact. Like it’s just the way it _is._ Just like how she is with relationships. It’s known. It’s a certainty.  
  
A gasp leaves her. His answer should scare her, or ring a loud ear-piercing alarm in her head. _Confirmation._ The answer to what she’s been seeking. She should be jumping into her chair and zooming for Mexico, or a convent. At least for the ice creamery down the road. She should be waving the Friendzone Card so hard that it whips him in the face, then sending him a daily e-card reminding him that he’s been friendzoned. With animated cats that says _‘Meow! You’ve been friendzoned. Have a purr-fect day!_ ’  
  
 But she’s not. It’s like all the fight in her has gone. She’s tired. So unbelievably tired. From the physical and emotional turmoil of the fall tonight. From always listening to her head and never her heart. From never saying what she truly wants to say. There’s only one word that is thrumming through her that she wants to say right now.  
  
So she says it.  
  
“Stay.”  
  
She watches Oliver’s eyes widen ever so slightly before he pushes off the door frame. He doesn’t move though. He just stands there, watching her intently. Obviously weighing up if he should take the offer, or if he should deny it — just in case she changes her mind.  
  
However, Felicity makes his mind up for him when she pulls the covers back, a silent invitation to join her — that’s when he finally takes a step and beams at her.  
  
It’s only when he reaches the bed and hovers shyly that the atmosphere changes them into awkward balls of apprehensive energy.  
  
“Uh, do you mind if…” He asks nervously, gesturing to his jeans. “These aren’t the best to sleep in.”  
  
Gulping, Felicity nods her consent before flipping to face the opposite way. She’s so grateful when Oliver turns off her main light and slips into her ensuite. If she had to watch Oliver undressed in front of her tonight, she probably would have combusted or done something that she would have regretted later. Like pulled him on top of her and kissed him until… well _yeah_.  
  
Not that the idea of _giving_ Oliver _that_ is regrettable. But she just needs time to figure out her head and heart’s irreconcilable differences before she can even _consider_ thinking about taking a peek outside her bubble.  
  
She only turns back around when she feels her mattress dip and the duvet covers them both. She hums into the darkness as Oliver moves his arm under her neck and she places a hand on his t-shirt cladded chest. She smiles at how much of a gentleman he is for leaving it on.  
  
“Is this okay?” Oliver asks, tracing around her bandage softly before brushing away loose hairs from her forehead, pulling her closer to him with his other arm.  
  
She’s never felt so peaceful and comfortable before in her life.  
  
“This is _very_ okay.”  
  
The Friend zone Card reveal can be for tomorrow. Or next week. Or the week after.  
Tonight is hers. Theirs.  
  
Just a lonely, unlucky in love girl being held by the guy who has been lining up at her limp feet, ready to date her — ready to take a chance on her apparently.  
   
Felicity’s eyes begin to droop as she oh so contently sighs and snuggles in closer, an instant reaction to Oliver’s hand slipping under her shirt and lightly scratching her lower back. The last thing she feels before sleep pulls her into the darkness is the smile in his lips resting on her forehead.


	9. Here's To Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Loves!
> 
> So new thing, I'm going to try shorter chapters (5-7k) so I can hopefully update more for you, meaning more chapters! Yay!  
> However this one caught away from me... oops :P Hence the minor cliffhanger 
> 
> This is a little friendly blanket statement: This is my story, and how I write it is how I want to. I have so many great comments about how it's so realistic and relatable - which I take pride in and try to keep it that way for you guys. I always say life's messy and no one is perfect so why write a story that's neat and can put into boxes. No one lives like that. So if you think Felicity's life and her choices can be rounded up in little boxes before she can move the next thing, please don't read anymore. This isn't for you. 
> 
> Thank you Tara and Madalyn for editing!
> 
> With that being said, I ADORE her decision in this chapter! ENJOY.
> 
> Emm xx

* * *

 

 **Saturday 22nd June, 2013 - 5:08am**  
  
The dreaded pull of wakefulness that drags her from her precious slumber — that is what Felicity is used to most nights. It’s mainly when her very clumsy, uncoordinated self gets stuck rolling over and she has to use her arms to help the rest of the way.  
  
Now, as the early morning light shines through the gap in the curtains, she groggily shuts her eyes, blacking out the line of light that engulfs her as it reaches the bed — she’s surprised that she wakes already facing the other way without struggling.  
  
What she is _not_ used to is the delicious heat warming the length of her back, a gentle fan of breath on her neck and a hand lightly trailing up her flat stomach, as callous fingers curl to drag the hem of her tank up, touching the raised scars littered there.   
  
That’s completely new to her.  
  
She tenses slightly at what should be a _tummy-dropping, moan-inducing_ caress. Her lashes flutter, fighting against the glow as Felicity goes in search for the hand belonging to...  
  
Oliver.  
  
A unsteady exhale passes over her lips, the tips of them curve up into a hesitant smile as she threads her fingers through his. Her hand seems so tiny compared to his large one, as his long fingers nearly stretch out the length of her stomach when Felicity holds it in place. It ignites memories from the night before. Being held among pieces of shattered mug on the tiled floor. Exchange of army tags. Lines being formed behind the man whose intention is to date her if she _just_ allowed it.  
  
Uncertainty fills her to the core. She knows she should stick with her original plan of never doing anything about her feelings. Make the boundaries of friendship clear so that it’s a line being drawn in quick-dry cement.  But in the snug, sleepy cocoon she’s in, all she can be bothered to feel is contentment and the excited nervousness of possibly leaving her bubble.  
  
The need to turn back into his arms and soak in the experience of being held by the man she is in love with is almost overwhelming. She has never gotten the chance to lay in someone’s arms and watch them sleep.  
  
Not in a creepy, _I’m-so-obsessed-with-you-that-I-might-kill-you_ way. She is no stalker in training. But in an _OMG-how-did-I-get-here?_ special kind of way. To get a moment to reflect and wonder about the person laying next to her and consider the prospect of a future.  
  
Slowly, she slides onto her back, careful to not to wake him as his arm moves with her. She pauses for a moment on her back, turning her head to watch his chest fall and rise with every deep breath.  
  
Ugh, Oliver is gorgeous even in his sleep.  
  
His semi-chapped lips part in the cutest way as a small snore escapes him, making Felicity smile like a fool. Her fingers itch to run over his strong jaw as dusk highlights his ever present scruff peppered there.  
  
Holding her breath, she tries to roll seamlessly onto her side without any big movements but winces as she doesn’t quite make it. Suddenly, a hand cups her hip and gently pulls her the rest of the way and her lips stretch into a wide smile as she follows eagerly.  
  
That must be how she turned before and didn’t wake at all. Her heart skips wildly and fumbles over itself with love at how even in his sleep, Oliver is still so aware of her. Drawn to her. Helping her. Making sure she’s okay. She watches in awe as he traces a path with his palm from it’s place on her hip back under her flimsy white tank and comes to rest on her lower back, pulling her closer to him without waking.  
  
He hums contentedly and Felicity wants to melt straight into him.  
  
The need to touch him pulls her over to the dark side. She scratches his scuff  — it’s prickly and warm from his skin against her fingertips. Her hand lingers, the feeling of his whiskers on her skin is fast becoming addictive.  
  
Seriously, she could just lay here and touch his stupid gorgeous face for the rest of her days and be a very happy woman.  
  
Her thumb strokes along his jaw until his eyes flutter open, all sleepy and lustful. They shine in the light before they deepen to the colour of the depths of the ocean.The feeling of butterflies bouncing around in her stomach is back, along with the new and foreign sensation she felt when Oliver touched her back for the first time at ARGUS.  
  
Well, maybe it’s not so _new_ or _foreign_ anymore. She’s used to the lighting-bolt shivers that run down her semi damaged spine and her stomach tightens in a way that Felicity can only describe with one word;  
  
_Want_. Pure, unadulterated want.  
  
A feeling she hasn’t felt in a very long time.  
  
It’s like everything slows down and speeds up at the same time. Her thumb stops moving. Her breath hitches. Her pulse races as a flush starts on her cheeks and runs down her neck when Oliver shifts — and the duvet falls off with the movement —  so his broad chest is on top of hers, creating a pleasant weight pressing against her breasts. Something about how he surrounds her is so welcoming and safe, she wants him to stay there _forever._  
  
The air crackles around them, sparking a fire she’s never felt before as she arches her back so she can get closer to him.  It’s electrifying how his body is so perfect against her — she can almost feel the hard plains of his abs under his shirt, and he tucks an arm under her back to pull her closer still. So much so that she’s pretty sure Oliver can feel her heart thump against his by how he’s looking down at her with a mixture of desire and adoration.  
  
Shaking, Felicity reaches up with her other hand and cups both cheeks. Her eyes roam his fevered features before meeting his gaze, her thumbs twitch as if they need to smooth over his soft skin but she stops herself and swallows.  
  
Logically, she knows what’s about to happen next. It’s clear as day. And god, a very big part of her wants it it to happen.  
  
She needs it. _Craves_ it.  
  
But the girl in her from five years ago is clawing to the surface, reminding her that she shouldn’t because it’ll only end up with her heartbroken and alone. Biting her lip, she shivers from the chill that runs through her veins as the nervous tension invades her while she battles internally.  
  
Oliver must feel her anxiety as he gives her one of his precious dimpled smiles — smoothing a strand of hair away from her forehead while the other hand carefully slides up and curves around her waist, to rest between her shoulders, creating goosebumps in its wake.  
  
“Felicity…” Oliver whispers, leaning down so his nose nuzzles hers.  
  
Lord, it’s happening.  
  
Oliver Queen is actually going to kiss her!  
  
Instinctively she closes her eyes as his breath fans over her lips, and her fingers tighten their hold on him. She waits for his lips to touch hers, but they hover ever so slightly there — a phantom touch. She can imagine the firmness of them on her own dry ones, but she knows it’s only her mind playing tricks on her.  
  
The anticipation is killing her, coldness is now replaced with the fire from before. She writhes, her covered nipples start to harden underneath her tank as they brush against his own covered chest. Frustrated that her hips won’t thrust into his, needing to give him a signal to make a move, and that she can’t feel any clue that he's as turned on as she is.  
  
A need to be kissed flows strong through her body — and Felicity nearly huffs when Oliver still hovers over her, her tongue peeks through her lips in impatience — the movement causes her wet tongue to barely drag over Oliver’s bottom lip, pulling a moan from him.  
  
It feels like forever until Oliver makes his move. She nearly fist bumps and cheers as his lips touch hers, soft and gentle, and then...  
  
Her door slams open, her light turns on — revealing a to the newcomer a very pantless Oliver on top of a flustered and turned on Felicity. A concerned voice loudly echoes across the room has them breaking apart so hard that Felicity would have rolled out of bed if it weren’t for Oliver catching her and helping her sit up.  
  
Sara.  
  
_Frack, frack, FRACK! She forgot to text Sara back when Oliver came over._  
  
“ _Felici--_ oh. OH!” Sara stops mid shout and stumbles over her surprise.  
  
It only takes a second for her best friend to recover and realise what she’s walked in on. Felicity dips her head and groans as Sara’s face splits into a knowing smile as she looks between the two before loud footsteps storm down the hallway.  
  
“What? What happened? Is she okay?” Nyssa asks in a panic and rounds the corner of the doorway, bumping into Sara.  
  
Felicity doesn't laugh when Nyssa lets out an ‘oof’ as she crashes into her girlfriend.  No, she’s too busy being the embarrassed emoji as she notices Nyssa seeing Oliver pulling the covers up over them both and move closer to her.  
  
She sees the exact moment it clicks for Nyssa, when her concerned frown turns into the smuggest grin that Felicity’s has ever seen in her life.  
  
And she’s seen her mother’s ‘I told you so’ face when Felicity thought Small Hands Billy from her local coffee shop in Boston was only being friendly whenever he gave her an extra shot in her latte when apparently he was trying to flirt with her.  
  
“Did you know that a single 30 minute sex session in the morning can burn about 69 calories for women and 101 calories for men?” Nyssa says in a sing-song voice, looking like the cat that caught the canary before sauntering down the hallway with a spring in her step.  
  
Of course, Nyssa would use her embarrassing morning sex statistic fact on her now. She’s got to be loving every second of it. Felicity gapes as her cheeks turn crimson, biting her lip as she tries to avoid Oliver’s gaze. He’s chuckling quietly, and when he shifts to put an arm behind her — despite the urge to curl up and die of embarrassment, because _good grief_ her friends are as _subtle_ as Clark Kent wearing glasses to hide his identity, she automatically leans back into the nook of Oliver’s arm and rests her head on his shoulder.  
  
“I’m so sorry, Sara! I forgot to text you, oh my god. I’ve been, um—” she nervously apologises but stops as Sara cuts her off, rubbing her hands down her flush face.  
  
“A little busy?” Sara interrupts with her best shit-eating grin, pointing between the two. “How about I leave you two to...”  
  
“No, no! Hang on! I’ll just...” Felicity calls out when Sara turns around and heads out the door.  
  
“I can go home and catch up with you later?” Oliver whispers in her ear, nudging the tip of her ear with his nose playfully before starting to move from his position.  
  
“No. Stay. I just need to go talk with Sara for a minute,” she tells him sweetly, stopping him by reaching out to put a soft hand on his forearm before shifting away from his side.  
  
Wiggling to the side of the bed, she reaches for her chair. She’s a little self-conscious as she flips her legs off the edge, shuffling until her toes reach the floor. Not wanting to look awkward or imply that she needs help — because she has done this a million times before and she’ll do it a million times again. Felicity just hopes Oliver doesn’t see this as her needing his help for everyday things. She may fall sometimes, but she has a handle on the rest.  
  
As she pulls herself up by the side of the seat and turns around and throws her butt on the cushiony material, she’s met with Oliver watching her, an impressed smile and pride swimming in his eyes.  
  
He winks as she gives him a shy smile, her hands coming to the rim of her wheels and she begins to roll towards the door. An unusual feeling swells within her— part giddiness, part nerves, with a hint of _rightness._  
  
It hits her when she stops at the threshold of the door and looks over her shoulder to find Oliver laying in her bed, hands clasped behind his head, looking at her with hooded eyes.  
  
In that moment, she’s just a _normal_ 23-year-old woman leaving a guy she likes in her bed to go gossip with her best friend.  
  
She smiles. She likes this feeling. A lot.  


⇆

  
  
Priceless. That’s the only way Felicity can describe the expression on Sara’s face as she comes to a stop in the hallway. It’s like her best friend has found out that she won the lottery and that time travel exists all at once. Sara’s sky blue eyes are wide in shock and disbelief with a hint of giddiness. She races towards Felicity as soons as she sees her and bends down to met her eyes.  
  
“Firstly, I need to know — are you okay?” Sara asks quietly, bending down to squeeze Felicity’s hand and checking both of their doors to ensure they can speak freely without any unwanted listeners.  
  
Felicity nods a little distractly as her hand comes up to touch the bandage on her forehead, remembering how it felt to have him close as he stood in front of her, between her legs, while he patched her up. Sara seems to understands that Felicity is okay, because she’s jumping up in excitement,bringing Felicity back to the present.  
  
“Holy shit,” Sara whisper shouts. The awe is back and Sara playfully slaps Felicity on the shoulder. “Please tell me my eyes aren’t deceiving me and Oliver’s in your bed right now? Oliver Queen. You’re very handsome boss who has a major crush on you. Pantless, I might add. In. Your. Bed.”  
  
“Unless you tend to hallucinate guys in my bed all the time — which would be weird by the way. Your eyesight is perfect, it’s Oliver.” Felicity shrugs with a smirk.  
  
She’s trying to play it cool. If she doesn’t make a big deal out of it, maybe Sara won’t either. And maybe the rollercoaster ride that’s happening inside her stomach will stop making her dizzy with emotions. Of course, her heart is having the time of its life, crying in joy as her stomach drops delightfully when Sara’s words register with her.  
  
Oliver is in her _bed._ Without pants. And his lips were on hers a minute ago. __  
  
But she doesn’t have time to rehash all of that right now because Sara looks like she’s about to explode.  
  
“Felicity!” Sara calls, huffing impatiently. “If you don't tell me everything this second, I’m going to scream.”  
  
“Well, I dropped a mug and I called you but—-”  
  
“No, I mean, what?” Sara interrupts her with a head shake before concern takes over her features. She bends down to look at Felicity seriously. “That’s how you fell? Are you sure you're okay?”  
  
Gratitude fills Felicity as she takes in her best friend. She loves how one minute they can be freaking out over a guy then the next minute, Sara can be so focused on her well being and safety.  
  
“Yeah, I was at a weird angle and — “ Felicity starts to explain, her voice shakes a little as she relives the moment.  
  
“Okay, I wanna hear this and talk this through with you so it doesn’t happen again,” Sara cuts in again, before her attitude changes. With a wide smile that reaches her eyes, she stands up and points to Felicity’s door with a flourish. “But there’s an _Oliver in your bed_.”  
  
Felicity laughs a little too high pitched at the image of Oliver in her mind. Instead of picturing him half clothed, he’s naked, waiting and ready. She reaches up to cover her mouth, but does nothing to stop the sound from echoing in the hallway.  
  
She shakes her head to rid the _naughty_ images her mind is conjuring up and replaying the frames like a sexy black and white movie.  
  
“Right! Umm, nothing happened if that’s what you mean. But…” Felicity trails off, her hands fiddling in her lap nervously as she looks down.  
  
Part of her doesn’t want to tell Sara. It would mean that it happened. That it’s real and true. It means she’ll have to finally accept that what Oliver did with his tags is absolutely _freaking_ romantic, and that does _things_ to her.  
  
Things that make her _yearn._  
  
“But _what_?”  
  
“He kind of tried to give me his tags, but I gave them back. And when I decide to date, he said the line forms behind him,” Felicity blurts out, biting her lip as she looks up to see Sara’s jaw drop.  
  
“He tried to give you his… And that line? Oh my god, Lis. That’s fucking smooth,” Sara exclaims, arms flailing before continuing. “The guy isn’t crushing, he’s falling in love. Fast.”  
  
Felicity can only stare up at Sara with wide eyes.  
  
“What about this date he was supposed to be on?” Sara asks as her eyes narrow in suspicion, hand coming to rest on her hip. Felicity had filled her in on her epic dinner-asking fail after coming home on Monday, grabbing the mint chocolate chip ice cream as soon as she rolled through the door.  
  
“McKenna and Oliver are just friends,” Felicity says matter-of-factly. Now there’s no doubt they’re only friends, which Felicity knows first hand after what happened this morning. She’s not gonna lie, she feels a little smug that she’s the one Oliver is with at 5 a.m. and not some other girl. She smiles as she adds, “Apparently SPB likes Tommy.”  
  
“Ooo! So why are you not back in there banging his brains out?” Sara cooes teasingly, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively as she gives her hips a little sway.  
  
“You know why…” Felicity sighs, motioning to her chair.  
  
Sara sighs dramatically, before a flash of anger passes over her face. It’s the same look as the night Felicity opened up to her about Cooper. It goes as quickly as it came — Sara’s lips draw up into a smirk as she chuckles.  
  
“I do, but I don’t think that’s the problem _here_.”  
  
Felicity smiles at what her friend is implying, enjoying the moment before a thought hits her, causing her to frown and look up at her friend  
  
“How was your anniversary?!” she asks apologetically, reaching out to Sara and squeezing her hand. “I’m sorry I ruined it and made you come back”  
  
“Pfft, and miss out on catching you making out? Best. Anniversary. Gift. Ever!”  
  
“Actually, we didn’t do that even… our lips touched for a millisecond before you barged in!”  
  
“Shit! Nooooooo! Get back in there and make Olicity happen!” Sara instructs her with a serious smile as she pushes the back of the chair towards Felicity’s room with more force than usual.  
  
Felicity laughs and rolls her eyes as she pushes her wheels down the hallway.

  
⇆

  
  
When she enters her room, Felicity finds her main light off, and the lamp on the bedside table next to Oliver illuminates the room. He’s leaning against her headboard as he scrolls through his phone. The covers next to him are neatly folded back, like they are waiting for her to crawl back into bed.  
  
The sight makes her timid and pensive about what happened before Sara caught them and what could have happened if they weren’t interrupted. She guesses they need to talk about what happens now, the thought making her breathing choppy. Not that the idea of starting anything with Oliver is bad. It’s quite the opposite, actually.  
  
It’s just that she has no idea what to do. It’s very clear that her heart wants this, it’s flipping cartwheels at the very notion of being with Oliver. It has been a lonely road until now, and she thinks she is ready to let this beautiful man into her life completely.  
  
But her head is still unsure. It’s not comfortable making a decision right now. There’s so much to work through, both from her past and the future. She's always been a logical person, and after what happened five years ago, she has every right to be.  
  
So if Oliver asked her to talk, she wouldn’t have any clue what to say. She probably would end up having a mini anxiety attack.  
  
Rolling up to the bed, she lingers in her chair as uncertainty plays on her mind. Oliver senses her doubt, wordlessly putting his phone down on the bedside table and looking up at her with a curious arched eyebrow.  
  
Shyly, she smiles and flops herself into bed while Oliver switches off the lamp and helps her settle under the fluffy duvet.  
  
“Is everything okay?” Oliver asks gently, shuffling closer so that their foreheads are touching, creating a cocoon in the middle of the bed.  
  
“Sara just wanted to check if I was okay,” she whispers with a smile and tucks her hands under her pillow, fearing that she’ll break the quiet inimancy of the moment if she speaks any louder.  
  
“She's a great friend,” he hums, cupping her jaw softly before running his thumb over the apple of her cheek.  
  
A silent peace floats between them then, Felicity’s close to sleep as the warmth of his hand still rests on her cheek   
  
“What time you usually get up to go to ARGUS?” Oliver asks softly, trailing a finger down her neck and collarbone before wrapping his arm around her tightly.  
  
“Eight, why?” she breathes out, snuggling more into the nook of his neck. His warmth is lulling her back to the space between the land of the living and doze-ville. She sighs as his thumb traces lazy patterns on her back.  
  
“I’ll wake you at 8:15, then go get the car and hopefully be back in 45 minutes. We’ll leave around 9:45,” Oliver explains simply, like it’s an easy fact that’s going to happen without any hesitation.  
  
Felicity hums. In her sleepy state, the words compute in her brain for a millisecond until her genius wakes up and realises the faults. Firstly, Oliver lives in his penthouse. The penthouse that doesn’t experience tantric sex.... at least, not recently. Which is in the city. The city is only 15 minutes away by train, meaning by car…  
  
Car. _Car_ ?  
  
“Wait. A car?” she asks, scrunching up her nose in confusion as she leans back to look at him in the eye, even if the darkness of the room doesn’t give her any sight.  
  
Oliver laughs as he explains, “Yes, a SUV. It was Dad’s, but I drive it occasionally.”  
  
“But you take your bike everywhere,” Felicity blurts out, her brows narrowing in thought as she tries to remember if she has seen a car at QC or ARGUS.  
  
She hasn’t though, Felicity has only seen Oliver riding his bike. Looking all sexy and manly as his strong thighs grip the seat, his muscles in his arm ripple underneath his scrumptious leather jacket as his strong hands control the bars.  
  
Not that she watches him pull up to places and has to stop staring before she drools.  
  
Okay, she totally has… it’s worth the risk of getting caught or wiping her mouth like an idiot.  
  
“Yes, though I have a few ideas on how to put you on there and drive safely but I don’t think you’re up for it yet. Plus I wouldn’t be able take your chair.”  
  
“Oh!” she gasps breathlessly.  
__  
Holy shit, Oliver has thought about taking her for a ride. So has she, but it’s always been a fantasy. Something that she daydreamt about in quiet moments of the day, taking inspiration from her novels. And in the dead of the night when she is alone and feeling a little hot and bothered, her imagination gets _dirty_ and pictures Oliver lifting her off his bike, pulling her into his arms and laying her down on the soft sand of a deserted beach before kissing every inch of her.  
  
But it is just that — a fantasy. She never thought it could happen. Nor would she want it to happen after her experience being on the roads. But here’s this beautiful man, probably researching and finding ideas for her to get on his bike so that he could take her out comfortably and safely, making sure that she wasn’t terrified.  
  
Felicity frowns. She doesn’t know how to feel. Her heart is screaming for her to take the leap and trust him to keep her safe. To get on the bike, and ride with the man who makes her feel more alive and bold than ever before. But her head and limp legs remind her that the roads are dangerous and she shouldn’t risk her life anymore than she should.  
  
Oliver must know she’s battling with herself as his thumb smoothes over the crease in her forehead, using the voice he has just for her.  
  
“Get some rest, baby.”

⇆

**9:54am.**

“Here we are,” Oliver announces happily as he pulls the black SUV into the parking space at ARGUS, fingers linked with Felicity’s while one hand casually rests on the steering wheel.

Despite  the confusion over Oliver having a car this morning, Felicity appreciates how he looks in the driver's seat. Somehow, the black SUV suits him. The way he handles it through the busy traffic with soft confidence, much like his personality, and along with the neat dashboard and the leather interior  infused with a woodsy smell familiar to her. Not to mention his casual attire —  plain white t-shirt and black running shorts, which complements her black leggings and her cute workout tank. It's so  _ very _ Oliver and they  _ very  _ much look like a couple —  Felicity can’t help but find it oddly domesticated.

The imagery stirs something deep inside her. It wasn’t there until the Touching of the Lips happened.

Oh yes, this morning’s — um, sexy yet interrupted incident —  warrants a capitalised title.

Ever since he came back with the car and Felicity saw glimpses of how Oliver  _ could _ be in her life — Images of ‘ _ ugh-why-isn’t-it-twelve-o’clock-yet’ _ coffees in the kitchen, long drives along the coast and the simple ease of them hanging out together, invade her mind like a future movie — the yearning she felt this morning had tripled and she couldn’t shake it. Even if she wanted too.

Especially when the incident turns her life upside down.  _ Majorly. _

“You know that Digg won’t allow you to work out when he sees that?” Oliver asks as he kills the engine and, removing his Ray-Bans, cocking his head to the bandage above her eye.

“I know,” she says warmly, shrugging. Her thumb strokes a single line over his large knuckles, eyes flickering from the movement to Oliver’s face. She nearly laughs in shock as she catches Oliver looking as her small hand caresses his, with tinted cheeks and bashful eyes. 

He shouldn't be shy at all. He's Oliver, and well, she's Felicity. He basically told her that he's there, ready to take her on a date, but here he is acting like holding her hand is too much for him. Her insides melt at the sight.

“I guess it’s talking for me today.” she adds teasingly, looking back up at him and biting her lip.

Felicity knows what she said has a double meaning. They still have to talk about this morning, even if she's a little unsure. It's like Oliver can see behind her words and something shifts between them then. The spark from the Touching of the Lips is back as Felicity watches Oliver's eyes track from their joined hands slowly up her arm, darkening before they meet her own slightly hesitant eyes.

He gently squeezes her hand before his voice turns soft and Felicity swears it shakes the tiniest bit as he says, “We should talk, too. About—”

"This morning?" Felicity supplies in a whisper, cutting him off as she breaks eye contact and ducks her head down.

Her breaths start to become shallow as she tries to centre it before Oliver can notice she’s  _ freaking the hell out _ about talking to him about the fact they kissed — okay, it was less than that, but that tiny touch of their lips?

It’s  _ everything. _

It’s not like she didn’t know it was coming — the talk. She knows they have to have it,  _ need  _ to have it. But she thought she would have more time to process her thoughts and feelings. To think about it. To collect her wits.

She was so grateful when Oliver didn't bring it up this morning as he waltzed back into the apartment and started helping Sara with breakfast like he had been doing it forever. She had planned to talk to Digg before this moment.

Although she might have been sceptical about counselling before, she now looks forward to  getting most of her thoughts off her mind and hearing Digg's advice and ideas. She doesn't know what she'd do without Digg,  even if their relationship is professional

He’s a godsend.

She still has no idea what she’s going to say. Everything in her heart wants to tell Oliver how she feels, that she wants to give this a go. To have a happy and healthy relationship with a man who makes her smile.

However, her pesky fears have a hold on her. They follow her around like a rain cloud, tainting her hopes and dreams whenever she has the urge to leave them behind. 

“We should. But I don’t know—” Felicity stares at the dashboard, unable to look at the man beside her. Her breathing is heavy and tears well up as he squeezes her hand, encouraging her to continue. Blinking to get rid of the wetness on her eyelashes, she swallows. Fresh tears well as she feels herself about to Friendzone the only guy she  _ doesn’t  _ want to be ‘just friends’ with.

“Hey. hey.” Oliver soothes suddenly, cupping her chin and lifting it to meet her eyes to his calm ones. Like he knows what she’s about to do. “We don’t have to talk today. Or even tomorrow. But we can’t ignore this thing between us, Felicity. So when you are ready to talk, you let me know.”

Felicity nods, as a frustrated tear escapes the corner of her eye. She wishes that all her fears would melt away and allow her to take that almighty step out of loneliness and into coupledom with Oliver.

“Thank you.”

With a gentle wipe of her tears and a sweet upturn of his lips, Oliver nods before untangling their hands. He opens the driver side door to step out and set up her wheelchair.

⇆

“Hey man, did I see your  _ car _ out front?” Digg greets from behind the timber recepțion desk as the pair step into the lobby — not even bothering to look up from the papers that he’s reading before shuffling them into a pile. “Before I forget, could you please sign these for —”

Oliver stops dead in his tracks just before the desk with a peculiar look on his face, coughing rather loudly as Felicity wheels in behind him and parks next to him with a frown.

Felicity rolls her eyes as she watches Oliver stare down Digg, whose brows crinkle as he takes in Oliver. When  he sees Felicity his face smooths into an awkward smile.

Why are these guys always so  _ weird _ about Oliver’s volunteer work? Surely it’s not that strange for a CEO to volunteer their time for a good cause. Maybe there’s something else is going on here that she needs to investigate more. 

“Felicity, hey!” Digg says almost too happily, his deep voice rising higher as he moves away from the desk and walks to her, “I didn’t see you there!”

Chuckling at the bizarre greeting, Felicity gives a small wave in return and opens her mouth to speak when Digg does a double take, noticing her forehead and the cuts on her arms and legs.

“What happened to you?!” he asks in alarm, his chocolate eyes drowning in concern as he rushes to squat beside her wheel.

He takes his time inspecting her injuries. Gentle, professional eyes drift over the rest of her body for any other injuries, and they linger on her legs for a second more than the rest. Her chest tightens as she gives him a tight smile, not wanting him to suggest he take a look for broken bones himself.

She couldn't bare if Digg were one of  _ those _ people who assess with a clinical look or doesn't believe she knows her own body.

Digg just smiles as he meets her gaze. He gestures to her bandage with a flick of a hand, silently asking to look underneath. Felicity sighs in relief and nods, only to wince when the dressing is peeled back from her tender skin. Digg hums in concern as he inspects the cut.

“I should call Tommy,” he says firmly, patting the corner of the white patch back down before checking his watch.

Obviously, the doctor is running late for his shift.

“I’m fine!” Felicity insists with a smile, waving the matter off like it’s nothing. “I had a little fall, that’s all.”

She doesn’t want to make a big fuss right now. Especially when Digg is looking like he’s about to drill her about what happened and she’s going to have to explain about the  _ aftermath _ . While she wants to tell her therapist that her morning began with her kissing the man she loves — she has no idea what she's going to do about it. She’d rather not have said man next to her when she tries to figure that out.

Cause that, you know, could be incredibly awkward and embarrassing.

Apparently, Oliver doesn't get the memo about  _ not _ informing Digg that he was with her the night before because he’s huffing in frustration.

“I knew I should have called Tommy last night!” he exclaims.

It would be ridiculously adorable and sweet, how concerned he’s being about her well being. If they were alone, Felicity would probably pull him down for a hug, but not when he is  _ outing  _ them to the man who has a degree in psychology and is an Army captain.

“Oliver…” she warns, tilting her head up to give him a stare that says ‘ _ shut the hell up or I will end you _ ’.

But it’s too late. Digg already caught on.

“Last night? Did it happen when you two were together?” he asks, studying the two with an arched eyebrow, his arms crossed as his glare lingers on Oliver.

‘Uh, um, I-I— ” Oliver stutters, his words get caught in his throat as he looks back and forth between Felicity and Digg.

A bright red blush dusts his cheeks. Like a little boy who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Oliver bites his bottom lip and rubs his thumb and forefinger in a nervous tick.

Felicity’s lips involuntary tip up into a half grin. Whether Oliver is blushing because he thinks he's in trouble for coming over to help her, or maybe he just realised that he has exposed whatever they are to his former captain — whatever it is, he is in serious need of help to answer the question.

And Felicity never leaves a friend in the lurch.

Taking the lead, Felicity wheels herself ahead of Oliver and stops. He’s still standing stock still behind her with a slight flush as Digg continues to stare at him with a raised brow

"I fell at home and called him after Sara wasn't picking up and—" she explains with a smile, mimicking a phone call with her hands.

“I came to help, and then I stayed,” Oliver finishes, stepping beside her and putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Felicity could have a concussion and I wasn’t about to leave her!”

Digg must take pity on the poor soldier as he uncrosses his huge arms and smirks, murmuring about ‘ _ two idiots in love. _ ’ He makes his way to the doorway and slaps Oliver on the shoulder, shaking his head and grinning.

Diggs calls back to Felicity, “I don’t want you to work out today. But — “, he pauses and she can hear him opening a rusty old door from the equipment room.

“Told ya,” Oliver mouths smugly, walking behind the desk and sitting down with a thump.

Felicity has to hold back a giggle as she pivots her wheels around to Digg as he continues speaking. "Luckily for you, our wifi has been acting up."

The last thing she sees when she leaves the lobby is Oliver typing on the computer with a cute confused expression on his face as Internet Explorer pops up.

⇆

Felicity finds herself in a stuffy old supply closet with a giant of a man that is Digg, who can hardly fit.

After talking and discussing solutions for her fall, she can’t honestly believe how they got to this moment. She’s biting the inside of her cheek to stop the wave of laughter that’s threatening to come out every time she looks around the cramped room.

Her red wheelchair shines in the low light. Her metal rims ding against a metal board whenever she moves in her seat while she tinkers with the router on her lap. She’s trying to ignore Digg at the corner of her eye.

She can’t look without falling into a fit of giggles.

Because, sitting on an upside-down bucket, Digg is battling with a mop that keeps falling on him while he tries to glare her into talking.

"Sooooo, your wifi is fine, isn't it?" Felicity quizzes, rolling her lips together as she screws the last part of the  _ perfectly _ okay router back in place before handing it back to Digg. Leaning an elbow on her leg, Felicity gives a knowing smile as she taps a purple painted nail against her chin.  "You just wanted to get me as far away from Oliver as possible. The storage closet was your only option, right?"

Digg laughs."That depends,” he shrugs, his warm eyes heavy on hers. “What's going on with you two?"

Felicity swears she only falters a little as the words wash over her like some sort of reality check. Of course, Digg would see right through them. He's Digg.

He knows everything. He's like Yoda. Or maybe he's a spy. That would make more sense than the Yoda thing.

Worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, Felicity  contemplates  her options. Either she can deny it, or she can just be open and get straight to the point.

The old Felicity would have loved to drag this out and try to avoid her feelings. But the new Felicity seems to want to get this off her chest and discuss it, not only for herself but for Oliver too.

She just really wants to figure out what she's going to tell him when they talk. God, she hopes her heart wins for the first time since her accident. She's so tired of hiding.

In a moment of realisation, Felicity smiles to herself at how much progress she has made in just two months of therapy.

A call of her name brings her back to the current conversation, and she sees Digg watching her patiently with soft eyes.

“Sorry,” she apologies before wiggling in her seat and taking a big breath to steady herself. “Um,  _ Wekindakissed.” _

Digg tries to keep his face neutral, but the smile in his eyes can’t be hidden. Digg leans forward and tilts his head.

“Explain that sentence please...”

So she does. She explains the call, the tags, that awesomely  _ smooth  _ line, her feelings and finally the bed. Felicity feels like she's out of breath by the end, her hands are clammy as she awaits Diggs response. Although she is nervous about the reaction, she hasn't felt anxious talking about Oliver and she's so proud of herself for that.

"Woah," Digg lets out a low whistle. "That's quite a night. I have to hand it to you both; you two don't do anything half-assed."

He chuckles and shakes his head, smirking as Felicity giggles and shrugs.

“Digg, what should I do?” she asks, nervously picking imaginary fluff off her clothes.

Digg sits up straight and clasps his hands together. His voice is firm, yet there's a softness to it that lets her know there's no judgement there.“You know I can’t tell you that, Felicity. What do you think you should do?”

Gah, that's a loaded question. That's why she's here. She has no idea what she should do. Part of her wants to wheel up to him, pull him down by those stupidity hot tags and wrap her arms around him and never let go. The other part of her wants to do the right thing for both their sakes and let him go to live his life without any complications, and for her to have her heart intact instead of in a million pieces when this inevitably ends.

"I feel like I should friendzone him," she admits honestly, scrunching up her nose

“Oh,” Digg says, his brows shoot up in surprise, shifting in his seat as the mop falls once again. “That wasn’t the answer I was expecting considering your feelings for him.”

"Oliver's wonderful in a million different ways," Felicity sighs, remembering all the ways he’s made her smile, laugh and her heart flutter. However, her chest starts to get heavy as she remembers all the other stuff that stops her from moving forward.

"There's a but," Digg senses.

Felicity nods, she focuses on the sad-looking mop. She can't look at Digg when she admits what's bothering her. "What if I'm not good enough? What if I can't give Oliver what he wants? He deserves better—" she expresses, but is cut off by a gentle hand on the arm and a soft smile, as Digg moves to kneel before her. Her voice shakes and her breathing becomes choppy with each word, the elephant that tends to live on her chest slowly creeps home.

“Deep breathes, Felicity.” he soothes, smiling when she does and waiting until she gives a ghost of a smile back. “Good job!”

He moves back to his bucket and settles before turning serious, making sure she has eyes on him when he speaks."I'm going to remind you that if you ever feel uncomfortable talking to me," Digg points to himself before gesturing to the door, "Lyla's door is always open."

She appreciates the reminder, but Digg's her guy. He knows her and her quirks — she feels so comfortable with him. However, she would probably see Lyla about sex if it ever came up in detail. But that was for another day.

"Thank you. I know," Felicity replies with a thankful smile. "But I like chatting with you."

Digg gives his own smile, nodding once in thanks. He's silent for a beat, letting her have a moment of peace. When he talks next, it's firm but with a hint of sadness.

"Felicity, don't ever think you're not good enough.  Or think you can't give people what they want  — for Oliver or for anyone. You are kind, strong, funny and brave. You have so much love to give. Please don't hide that away because you don't think you're worth it or your love isn't enough.  _ You  _ deserve better than that." He leans in, cupping his mouth and faux whispers, "Just between you and me, I'd say Oliver is really batting above his average."

She laughs loudly at that last part, humour floating in her voice.“I like your vote in confidence, and thank you for the other stuff. It’s kind of you.”

“Well, it’s the truth.”

Digg scratches his jaw then, looking like he’s finding the right approach to say something that she won’t like. 

"Felicity," he addresses, "I don't want a long-winded answer, but I need to know. Why do you feel like this?"

Her heart thuds rapidly, and not in a good kind of way either. She doesn't really want to explain Cooper right now, nor the memories that come with him. Not when there's a handsome man waiting for her outside the door. Wanting to start something with her.  _ Wanting  _ her.

Her mind scurries to find the shortest answer possible and she nearly high fives herself when she thinks of the most perfect and accurate answer ever.

“My ex was an ass, but let’s not talk about him now,” Felicity supplies vaguely, but it doesn't stop the satisfied smirk from creeping onto her face, feeling good at the name calling even if she’s a mature adult. He deserves it.

She sees a flash of anger in Digg's eyes, drawing his mouth into a hard line before quickly covering it with his best therapist face.

“I think we should talk about that another day. It’s important for us to talk through it. But we don’t have to today.”

A long sigh of relief passes through her lips as Felicity thanks the universe that she doesn't have to rehash that shitty day yet. She dodged that bullet of tears and heartbreak, for now. 

“So, Felicity,” Digg drawls out her name, making Felicity chuckle. “I’m going to make this easy for you. If all your fears and concerns weren’t a factor. What would you do?”

The answer is immediate. It warms her from head to toe. Makes her smile until it hurts and her heart does backflips while screaming ‘ _ YAAAASSS.’ _

"I would tell Oliver how I feel," Felicity states, her voice strong and bold and sure.

"There's your answer then!" Digg exclaims happily.

He stands and claps, the sound making her jump. Digg awkwardly moves around in the small space so that he can reach the door.

"So, just like that?" Felicity asks with wide eyes, twisting her body in her seat so she can watch Digg open the door.

“Well, it can be if that’s what you want,” He says with a laugh, watching Felicity wheel herself backwards out from the tight space. “I would recommend you start an open and honest conversation with Oliver, tell him how you feel. Tell him your concerns and worries and then go from there. You have nothing to lose by talking to him..”

_ OMG _ , she is actually going to take the leap and burst her bubble for the first time in five years. She's taking the risk and letting the kindest, most thoughtful man, who makes common sense sexy.

Instead of feeling scared, Felicity just feels excited.

And nothing can stop her from laughing when Digg tells her with a deadly serious face, “If he hurts you, I know at least 30 ways to torture him.”

⇆

Her wheels roll fast as she enters the lobby, totally unaware that her arms are subconsciously pushing extra hard to get her there.

No, all she's aware of is Oliver. He's standing behind the desk, tidying the piles of paper that are messily placed there — something that he'd never do in his own office. Felicity knows she should tease him or point out that if he can tidy here, he can tidy at QC, but it doesn't matter.

None of it does.

Not when it's like she is seeing him for the first time. Without hesitancy,  trepidations and most importantly her  fears clouding her view. The fog has lifted and now she can see Oliver clearly, brighter.

In Technicolour.

With unstoppable love.

Freely.

Her heart is oddly calm as she just watches him — frowning in focus, shifting from foot to foot as he moves objects around the desk. It's nothing much. It's just him living everyday life, but to her, it's everything. It's the moment before her life —  _ their lives  _ — change for the better.

Frack, she’s ready. Whatever happens after today, good or bad, she knows she’ll never regret doing this.

“Hi.” Felicity beams, her smile reaches her eyes, rolling to a stop at the edge of the desk.

"Hi," Oliver replies softly, bending down to her level. "Where have you been?"

"The supply closest," she says like that's an explanation in and of itself, grinning as she puts a hand over his heart, while the other hand lands on his broad shoulder.

Laughing loudly, Oliver cocks his head to the side — looking part confused and part adoration as he grabs the sides of her seat, trapping her inside a bubble of Oliver and leans in.

“Of course. New therapy technique?”

A small laugh escapes her, she shakes her head ‘no' and sighs happily. Her eyes roam from her hand on his chest to his beautiful eyes that hypnotised her from day one, and she drowns in them for a moment.

This is it. There’s no turning back now. She can’t wait any longer. Her heart stops and she can feel herself shake as she takes a deep breath.

"I think I'm ready to talk now," Felicity tells him simply, her hopeful eyes never leaving his.

The second her heart starts beating is the second she sees Oliver register her words. His small smile grows wide as it takes over his whole face, eyes sparkling as he blows out a disbelieving laugh. He cups her face with both hands and his gaze slips to her mouth before returning to her eyes, pure happiness fills his own.

“Let’s go somewhere first.”

 


	10. Here I Am {Next To You}

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what y'all have been waiting for! God, I hope I do it justice...
> 
> A massive THANKS to the lovely Tara for editing this and the pep talk when I had a writer block moment! And Felice for taking a look at the most important bit ;) <3

* * *

 

**Saturday 22nd June, 2013 - 11:23am**

The sun warms her dewy skin through the windshield as the world passes her by, eyes darting back and forth out the car door window. She touches the fresh bandage over her cut on her brow and scrunches her nose up at how it still stings a little. Tommy had showed up right before they left but insisted that he clean it before she left.  Forgetting the pain instantly, a giddy smile blooms on her face. It threatens to take over her body, warming every bit she can feel as Felicity turns to see Oliver wearing a matching grin. His beautiful dimples are making their beloved appearance. His large fingers tangle with hers, as he quickly glances over to meet her eyes, giving her a wink before he turns his focus back to the road.

She sighs shakily. It isn’t until now that it hits her how big this is for them. Her mind has been a blur of happiness and excitement since Oliver lifted her in the car and grabbed her hand with more ease than ever before, playfully avoiding her questions about their destination.

They’re going to talk. About their feelings. They’re going to start something, whatever  _ this  _ is – and it’s going to be real. 

Solid. Tangible.

She can just feel it in her bones; it's going to be  _ magical _ .

Instead of feeling scared or uncertain, all she feels is giddiness and the readiness to burst this bubble of hers open. She watches the city shrink in the side view mirror as they drive further away, her curiosity bubbles to the surface and Felicity turns to face Oliver.

“Oliverrrr,” she drawls out playfully, squeezing his hand while eyeing him suspiciously. Her lips roll over each other as she wills him to answer her this time. “Where are we going?”

A rich, deep chuckle escapes him as he shakes his head, his hand on the steering wheel slides up to the top and grips tighter before he glances over to her for a second.

"You sure don't like surprises," he states with an upturn of his lips, giving her hand a little squeeze back.

"I hate mysteries, they need to be solved." Felicity pouts, huffing as she sees the turnoff to the suburbs up ahead. She tilts her head as she waits for the sound of the blinker to turn on. She doesn't like being in the dark. About anything. Answers on the other hand? This girl loooves answers. 

He hums, a knowing chuckle echos through the car. The teasing tone is evident in his voice as he grins, "That explains all the snooping then."

“Hey!” Felicity exclaims, pouting harder as she playfully pulls her hand away before Oliver catches it and links their fingers. “You don’t complain when it’s on board members and investors.”

Oliver hums and Felicity frowns as they pass the exit.  She assumes they would leave the city entirely if they were heading this way. The only thing left this way is a little piece of coast where Starling's rich and famous stay in their ridiculously massive mansions, having wild beach parties and pretend they don't live in the real world only 45 minutes away while they drown themselves in booze and sex.

That may have been Oliver from his past, but she definitely knows  _ her _ Oliver wouldn’t get caught dead in that scene again.

Wherever he's taking her, she trusts him to lead her somewhere peaceful and quiet.

Her trust doesn’t fail her.

Clicking the indicator, Oliver turns onto a side street opposite a train station – bypassing the entrance to the glitzy and extravagant streets where rows of McMansions lay, getting more over the top as they go along. The road is wide, and the houses are big and classy – it's clear the owners are wealthy by the manicured gardens dotted with palm trees and expensive cars neatly parked in their driveways – but there's no sense of opulence or fakeness as Felicity watches two laughing kids run to their front door, their parents trailing behind with smiles on their faces.

She should have noticed Oliver's shy look on his face as he steals a glance towards her, rubbing a hesitant thumb over her knuckles as she takes in her surroundings in confused awe. Or the fact he tenses a little when they round the corner and head up to the last house on the dead-end street. But she doesn't.

She’s too busy taking in the familiar yet bittersweet smell of salt in the air, the sight of patches of sand in the alleyways beside each house and the sound of soft waves lapping the shore. Her breath hitches, and her heart races as she realises what’s nearby. With a sharp turn of her head, she stares at Oliver in shock.

“Oliver,” she gasps, her hold on his hand tightens as she brings it up to her chest and clutches it with both hands, her fingers unconsciously play with his.  “Uh, did you bring me to the beach?”

A surge of emotions whirls inside her as her heart thuds fast against her rib cage. Tears well up in her eyes. Although the unshed tears blur her vision, Felicity can't seem to look away from Oliver, her breath quickens as she just watches him shrug and smile quietly.

Sweet  _ lord,  _ This man is  _ incredible. _

He has brought her to a place she thought was lost to her. She had quietly mourned her visiting rights all those years ago on the pier. She remembers their conversation at her desk when she first started — with her telling Oliver about how wheels and sand do  _ not  _ mix, and she saw how his face dropped when she informed him about the expenses of a beach wheelchair.

It feels like a lifetime ago. Back then, Felicity was so closed off. So scared to let her feelings show. So eager to hold onto her single, lonely bubble.

But now, as she holds the hand of the man who brought the beach back into her life, it overwhelms her how much thought and care he must have put into this idea. Enough for him to decide this is  _ where _ he wants to take her when the discussion of  _ them _ happens — tears start to openly fall as her thoughts of being ready to take the leap roll around in the front of her mind.

Frowning, Oliver licks his dry lips and pushes his hand further into her hold. It’s warm and solid as he brushes it against her heart with the movement, looking over at her with concern. He speeds up the long hedged driveway until the car reaches a surprisingly open space surrounded by a minimalistic garden.

“Oh  _ god,  _ honey,” Oliver all but whimpers as he kills the engine and immediately reaches over the console, cupping her wet cheeks. It’s like her tears are causing him pain, as he grimaces. “Don’t cry.  _ Please  _ don’t cry.”

His panicked words only make her cry harder, as adoration fills her to the brim. Of course, her sweet, considerate Oliver thinks her tears are ones of sorrow instead of awesomely happy ones. She tries to tell him, shaking her head but as Felicity opens her mouth, a small sob escapes — making Oliver's hold tighten as he brings his forehead to hers. She grabs onto his wrists like an anchor, giving herself a moment to breathe the musky scent of him in.

"I didn't mean— I'm so sorry! We can leave right away," Oliver apologises shakily, kissing her tears away with feather-light lips, as his hands slide to her neck and his thumbs slide over her collarbone.

He sounds so sad and guilt-ridden he brought her here that it immediately pulls Felicity out of her emotional weep-fest. She sits up straight, bringing one of his hands down to her lap to hold as she lets a shuddering breath out.

"No! I'm sorry," she says, her voice breaks on a sob. She takes a calming breath and gives her best teasing smile. "But, you brought me to the  _ beach.  _ Somewhere I never thought I'd go again.You gotta give a girl some warning if you’re gonna keep blindsiding her with romantic gestures."

Relieved, Oliver laughs deeply. His shoulders shake as his eyes shine in delight. He shifts in his seat, moving closer to her as his fingers slowly trace hers.

"You think  _ I'm _ romantic," he says cockily, his beautiful eyes are wild with mirth and lust. "Duly noted. But technically I brought you to my house."

Felicity's eyes widen in shock as she looks through the windshield to see a modern double story house towering over them. The clean-cut edges of the sandy tan two-story, walls encased in a metallic rounded wall nestled between two front wall faces, reminds her of a modern-day industrial castle… you know, if it was on the beach.

Ironically, it matches the whole ‘royalty’ surname thing. All he needs is an adorable golden retriever to come bounding out from around the corner and he’d be a 21st century knight in shining armour.

Not that Felicity believes in all of that. Woman can save themselves, be their own knights or princes or whatever. 

But yeah, Oliver has the whole knight thing down pat.

“Y-you own a house on the beach?” Felicity exclaims, her voice embarrassingly high. She almost sounds like a cat dying as she just stares at the house and it’s very  _ beachy  _ surroundings.

_ How the hell did she not know this _ ? She is his EA. A super duper one at that, thank you very much. Felicity knows everything about the company, from running it day-to-day to board meeting ideas. And she thought she knew most things about Oliver too, as a friend and the man she loves.

Clearly, she was wrong.

How does she not know this basic fact about him? Come to think of it; she’s never seen any personal mail in the office, she just assumed he was a penthouse kind of guy and never asked. She could have asked, should've offered to help out with personal stuff. 

Although, she's thankful she never had to be one of those EA’s who had to, uh, deal with the ‘ _ personal side _ ’ of things — watching the women who drifted in and out of the CEO’s life occasionally. Even thought she would deny it to the end of her days, Felicity is pretty sure something green and envious would burn in the pit of her stomach if she had to send a gorgeous gift in the mail to a gorgeous woman who got Oliver's affections.

_ Gah! _ She is a bad friend — or  _ whatever _ they are now — especially when he knows where she lives. He’s stayed in her bed, for heaven's sake.

"Well, my family does," Oliver explains, shrugging as he opens his door and gets out. Obviously, he's unaware of her thoughts as he gives her a proud look.  "But I'm planning to buy it from the estate soon."

It makes her lips curl into an honest smile for a second. Ever since she met him, Felicity has always seen the drive within him to go after what he wants. He demonstrated that trait last night, his words of lining up for her were clear as day.

He wants to date her.

Sudden nerves hit her as she remembers what they are about to do. She's about to tell Oliver  she possibly, maybe,  _ definitely _ wants to start something with him.

She sits with her nerves for a moment more until she shakes them off, knowing she has this. Follow Diggs advice: be honest and open. Felicity nods to herself. She can do that. For her future happiness. For Oliver.

The excitement she felt before comes rushing back as she watches Oliver set up her wheelchair. He is so gentle and sweet as he wipes the imaginary crumbs off her seat and wheels it with care up to her door and puts the brakes on.

A small ‘aww’ leaves her as he checks everything’s perfect before opening her door.

With one more look up at the building, she realises she can’t let this beach house thing go.

"But I thought…" Felicity starts before Oliver slides one arm under her knees while the other rubs her back in a quick caress, making her bite back a moan before he picks her up effortlessly. Shaking her head, she realises she's making a big deal out of nothing. "You know what? Nevermind"

“What?” Oliver asks, placing her carefully in her chair and watching as she settles herself.

Felicity sighs as she buckles the seatbelt. With a curious arched brow, she asks in return, “Don’t you find it a little odd as your secretary I don’t know where you live?”

Oliver shrugs, getting her purse out from the front seat and handing it to her before shutting the door with a soft thud. “Maybe I’m a good CEO who doesn’t make his EA do personal errands.”

"Or a bad one?" Felicity teases, reaching over the back of her chair, putting her things in the pouch. "You haven't — it's very cliche, but I feel like it was bound to happen at some point — asked me to pick up your dry cleaning or to send a beautiful woman her favourite flowers while you take credit for it."

"Right. Monday, please pick up my imaginary dry cleaning I have at my imaginary overpriced drycleaners and send yourself some…"  Oliver insists in his best CEO voice, it softens as he trails off as he tilts his head to signal for her to fill in the gap.

She bites her lip as a faint rosy flush paints her cheeks, her voice is quiet and bashful when she supplies with, "Calla Lilies."

"Buy yourself some Calla Lilies,” Oliver tells her sweetly, looking at her with charming blues before his voice turns teasing as a cheeky half smile takes over. “ _ But _ I'm talking full credit when you tell the florist to sign it with ‘All my love, Oliver."

Felicity can't help but blush deeply as she rolls her eyes at the teasing, wheeling herself behind Oliver as he leads them to the metallic front door.  

"C'mon though. I'll give you the tour." Oliver offers happily, opening up the door and kicking his neatly placed sneakers out the way to make sure Felicity can get through.

⇄

**11:58am**

"Wow, Oliver. This is amazing." Felicity utters appreciatively, glancing around the enormous open floor plan as she pulls back slightly on her wheels to come to a stop and pivots to face Oliver.

She finds him watching her with a dazed look on his face. His eyes are so incredibly soft and hopeful, like seeing her in his house  _ means  _ something. Almost…

Almost like he's picturing something more significant than her first time visiting.

He shakes out of his daze and smiles, jutting his hip to lean against the island bench and placing a palm on the countertop.

“Thanks,” Oliver beams playfully, gesturing around him before shrugging. “It’s alright, I suppose.”

With a chuckle, Felicity follows the direction of Oliver's hand to see the kitchen and a small dining area on her right, and the living area to her left.  The space is filled with crisp modern cabinetry and f urnishings. While the neutral backdrop of browns and greys give it a homey feel which complements Oliver in  _ every  _ way, Felicity would bet her most prized Tardis collector's item the bright  orange accents and decor are entirely Moria's doing — well, Moria's ability to hire the best interior designer in Staring.

Because this looks like something out of a magazine. All class and luxury and perfection.

However, there's one thing that catches her eye that doesn't scream ‘ _ Starling’s top ten houses…” _ in the slightest. It looks like the coziest, most  _ glorious _ thing ever in her life. Sun shines through tall, large windows, highlighting a corner daybed with a soft suede cushion Felicity knows for sure she would melt into if she laid on it.

Sighing, a little more breathless than she would like — she imagines snuggling up on that bad boy, reading one of her novels. Or watching the sunset. Or maybe snuggling up to Oliver after a long day, her hand on his bare chest while their lips touch hotly, then he unbuttons her top pant button and …

Footsteps kill her very active and  _ vivid  _ imagination. She blushes as she whips her head to see Oliver smirking as he stands in front of her. It's like he knows what she's been thinking, like he’s tuned in to her blushes. So when he slowly bends over to whisper in her ear, Felicity can't help but bite her lip in anticipation.

“Turn around,” Oliver breathes. His warm breath fans her neck as he grabs one handle of her chair, the other hand lightly drags down her arm until his fingers lace with her own, causing her to shiver.

He spins them then, and Felicity gasps at the smooth transition. Oliver ends up being pressed up against the back of her chair, but with a casual arm slung around her neck as they hold hands at her left shoulder. His chin rests on her right as they take in the view now directly in front of them.

It’s  _ breathtaking. _

Through a massive, floor-to-ceiling sliding door — which Felicity is confident that when open makes the outside balcony a part of the floor plan — is the beach. Waves lazily dance up onto the shore, dragging the golden sand back into its embrace.

In a way, the waves remind her of Oliver. He has gently coaxed her to come out of her bubble, each time pulling a piece of her back out into the wide world with him. In the end, she has willingly fallen into his warm, secure embrace. Like the sand every time it meets the water.

"I can't believe you live on the beach. It's gorgeous." she breathes, mesmerized by the rhythm of the ocean.

“I can’t believe you didn’t know.” Oliver quietly retorts as he nuzzles his chin into the juncture of her neck, making her close her eyes and giggle.

“I assumed you lived in the city somewhere…” Felicity says, shrugging her unoccupied shoulder as her free hand comes up to rest on Oliver’s jaw.

It's at that moment, Oliver takes the opportunity to wrap his other arm around her. She tenses and waits for the moment of regret to come.

She knows this must be so uncomfortable for him. Hell, even hugging her from the front is awkward. There’s so much space, and the angle is almost always slightly wrong. So stepping up behind her?

Well, that’s  _ not  _ cute or sexy or even remotely  _ doable. _ He's hunched over with the chair which is probably digging into his ribs, not to mention the tight fit between the handles. But as Oliver lets out a content sigh and tightens his hold on her, Felicity immediately relaxes and sinks her head back to him.

"I was in the city for a while. When I first got back." Oliver admits, his voice is low and distant — like he's remembering something painful that he's trying to put into words, but can't. When he continues, it's in a shaky tone. "But then the noise of the city it— it got too much. So one night, I came here. It was only meant to be for a night or two, just to clear my head, but I never left."

Felicity hums knowingly. She knows what it feels like. To be scared and unsure. To feel the need to run away, to be alone and let your thoughts be lousy company. She's been there, and while the bad thoughts disappeared, she never quite left the solitude of it.

Her heart twists and aches at the thought of Oliver being in a similar situation. Nobody should feel like that, especially someone with a heart of gold. She wishes she could make him try to open up about his time in the Army and take his pain away, but she doesn't have the right. No one does. It’s Oliver who’ll have to want to let her in as much as Felicity has to want to let him in about Cooper.

All she can do is hope someday she’ll be there to listen when he’s ready to talk.

With a long squeeze of his hand, Felicity silently comforts him as he continues speaking.

"I don't know. I just felt safe and comfortable here. Nothing could reach me, and I couldn't reach the outside world like—" Oliver confesses, but trails of to find the words.

"You were in your own little bubble?" Felicity supplies, absentmindedly scratching his scruff under her fingers, causing Oliver to rub his cheek softly along hers.

"Yeah, in my own little bubble," Oliver repeats sadly, but the moment passes as he disentangles himself from her and stands up, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I'll show you around the house if you're ready?"

 

⇄ 

"Oliver," Felicity cooes, humour laced with her chirpy tone. Rolling her lips to stop herself from laughing, she tugs on Oliver's hand as she watches him give the stairs a death glare so hard she's worried he might injure his pretty face from all the frowning. "We don't have to go up!"

After exploring the lower level, and Felicity fangirling over the state-of-the-art media room, they arrived at the rounded staircase which reminded her of a modern day tower. The instant they stood at the foot of the stairs, Oliver had groaned and acted like the staircase personally offended him by existing.

“I promised you a tour!” Oliver huffs, looking back and forth between Felicity and the wooden steps with a pained look etched across his features.

It's adorable how flustered Oliver is about this. It’s like he should have known and tried to fix it before she came over — even though it’s impossible. It’s not like he had foreseen he was going to meet somebody in a wheelchair. But he still looks like he's about to build a ramp that isn't even going to work or about to whip out his phone to ring the architect, using his stern CEO voice to demand an instant lift.

Her heart attempts to leap out of her, and she has to put a hand on her chest to calm it, knowing he is genuinely concerned and worried about her accessibility. Even in his own home. He's been like this since day one and Felicity thinks she'll never get past how affected Oliver gets over small things like this.

God, she  _ loves _ him.

Because honestly, the second floor didn't even register in her mind. Second floors of houses are non-existent in her eyes. They are voids that make up the second story exterior. It doesn't bother her now — she’s pretty good at playing along as people try to describe their upstairs plans, nodding along and ‘oohing and ‘ahhing as they fail epically to explain it.

Plus, stairs are her biggest nemesis in life. Whether it's a small shop step or a set of stairs in an old apartment building, they always taunt her ability to get around them. Always stopping her from getting places quickly. It's not very often she lets them defeat her by letting them stop her, although she swears she hears a mocking sound when ice cream shops have stairs. It's like they know she can't enter.

“Why don’t you go take some photos and show me?” Felicity suggests as she pulls on his hand again, opting for the solution Sara does whenever they are somewhere cool and noteworthy to see, but without a lift.

Oliver shakes his head and bends down to her, reaching out to settle his hand on top of hers.“I can’t believe I forgot about the stairs. I’m sorry.”

He sounds so defeated as he drops his head down before looking up at her sadly. The urge to comfort him is huge, so she leans forward and wraps her arms around his neck. Felicity smiles as Oliver falls into her instinctively, burying his face into her neck.

“Hey, hey.” Felicity soothes, pulling back from the hug to cup his cheeks and stare into his beautiful blues. She smiles brightly as she jests, “It’s not like I expect everyone I know to have a lift! Plus, there’s no reason for me to go up, all the cool stuff is down here..”

He gives her a small huff of laughter, reaching up to stroke the apple of her cheek before he frowns seriously.

"Felicity," he says softly, his voice is low and strong, but there's a sense of nervousness to it. He brings her hands up to his lips, placing a single kiss to her knuckles before he speaks. "After today, I'm very much hoping that you are going to be here  _ a lot. _ So I want you to go, freely and comfortably, wherever you want in this house.”

“ _ Oh!” _

Oh. My. God. Surprise and giddiness enter her like an electric shock, her eyes widen as she stares at him gaping. She knows that they are going to talk, to share their feelings. To share their fears. To discuss the Touching Of The Lips. She's ready for it. She swears she is.

But she wasn't ready for Oliver's certainty. It's like he has made up his mind about them being together — they are going to be a regular couple that holds hands, kisses and has  _ sleepovers.  _ They’ll belong in each other's space.

_ Wow, _ okay. That is a lot. But it's okay, scary but  _ wonderful. _

Her heart skips a beat, or seven when she realises: This is real. Her and Oliver. It's happening without them even talking yet.

Oliver must take pity on her overwhelmed look because he's chuckling and sliding his hands under her..

"C'mere," he murmurs, nudging his nose along her ear before pressing a sweet kiss behind it, as he lifts Felicity to his chest. His smile glows as he tightens his grip, causing her to rest her head on his shoulder and grip his other one. "I'll carry you for now."

As they make it to the third step, Oliver places a second kiss in the same spot behind her ear — which is apparently a  _ thing _ for her now, if the bolt of heat running up her spine means anything. She’s pretty sure she’ll melt right into him if he continues.

Felicity sighs and attempts to shoot a playful question and an arched brow his way but fails when her voice turns breathless, “Why do I get the feeling that you secretly like doing this?”

Oliver just shrugs, the third kiss is hotter as he nips her skins before whispering huskily in her ear, a seductive smile evident in his voice, "Maybe I just like holding you."

Oh _ yeah,  _ kisses behind her ear?  _ Definitely a thing. _

⇄

 **12:26pm**  

She’s still nestled in Oliver’s arms after their tour of the second floor, as he steps from the bottom step of the verandah onto the cusp of the golden sand.

He had bypassed her chair as they came down the stairs, giving her a sweet kiss on the cheek and tightening his hold as he suggested they sit outside. It had felt natural to leave her chair behind, feeling safe and comfortable in Oliver's arms. Being surrounded by him was becoming more and more like home to her. She had laughed as he playfully tilted her so she could unlock the sliding door as they made their way out.

Now, as the fresh sea breeze whips loose strands of hair around her face and causes her flowy tank to ripple, and the warm sun heats her skin like a cozy blanket, Felicity just  _ smiles. _

The view of the beach in front of her is  _ stunning.  _ And with the city glistening in the background to the left only makes it more charming.

She can’t believe she’s finally back, after all this time. She never thought she’d visit in person again. Last time Felicity visited the beach, it was to say goodbye to her independence. But here and now, she’s welcoming back her freedom with Oliver.

The man who showed her that anything is possible.

It's poetic and perfect when she comes to think of it.

A shaky breath leaves her deep from her lungs as she lets the thought sink in and wrap around her already cartwheeling heart.

“You okay?” Oliver asks quietly, breaking through her thoughts as he comes to a stop at a spot just before the shoreline.

Nodding, Felicity tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and blinks once to stop the tears from welling up and slipping over her lashes, letting out a disbelieving laugh as Oliver sets her down on the cool sand.

She used to love the feel of sand between her toes, but now she's happy to settle for running her fingers through it as she brushes her hands over the gritty grains. Her eyes fall shut as she raises her head up slightly to the sky and lets her other senses take over — the smell of the salt in the air, the warmth of the sun on her face and the sounds of waves lapping over each other.

Taking a moment, Felicity basks in the peaceful atmosphere. Soaking up the time she has gained back just to sit and enjoy the ocean. The pang in her heart makes her smile sadly as she realises how much she has missed this.

It’s only when the sound of Oliver’s tags jiggling beside her that has her opening her eyes, turning to face him to see him leaning back on his hands and legs crossed at the ankles. His eyes shimmer with hope and affection as they meet her gaze.

“Thank you,” she tells him gratefully, her tone is soft and emotional as she flashes a happy, dopey smile that reaches her own eyes.

_ Thank you for bringing me here. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for being you. _

Oliver nods once, his smile revealing the sun as a beat passes between them before he speaks.

“Felicity,” he breathes, her name sounding like a prayer. Shifting so he sits millimetres away, Oliver reaches to clasp their fingers together and gently cups her chin to lift her gaze to his. She wouldn’t have caught the hint of nervousness if she wasn’t looking directly into the depths of his gorgeous blue orbs. The smile on his lips would have outshone it. 

“I know it’s only been a few months, but there’s this strong connection between us. I know you can feel it, too. So whatever you need to say, whatever you feel about us going forward — you can talk to me. I’ll always listen. Even if I don’t like what you’re saying. I will hear you. Always.”

It’s like a standstill. Everything stops and fades away until it’s just them. Together. 

Felicity is transported back to the first day she stared into his hypnotic eyes. It had felt like her world had tipped on its axis. Oh, what poor naive soul she had been — back then, she had no idea what was ahead of her because  _ that axis spinning _ has nothing on how she feels now. Her world has flipped, turned and somersaulted in the very  _ best _ way. 

Bless this man and his heart melting words.

Her heart races and her veins buzz as she smiles wildly and laughs in awe, squeezing Oliver's hand without ever breaking eye contact. She couldn't even if she wanted to, their hold is too magnetic for one to break away right now. It's like deep down, both of them know this is the start of something new.

It's true though, somewhere along the way their friendship blossomed into a beautiful, natural connection — it's foundation based on respect and trust. They're so open with each other, so comfortable with each other. Not to mention how they made each other laugh. She couldn't necessarily explain what they are to each other, but it runs  _ deeper  _ than platonic companionship.  __

So to honour that, Felicity would talk to Oliver now. Without judgement. Without holding back. Knowing she will get heard no matter what the outcome is. All she had asked for was honesty when he asked for any requirements she wanted in a boss. Somewhere buried in her soul, she knows he has never, ever broken that pact, both as an excellent boss and friend. A sense of gratitude and appreciation washes over her, knowing that she can always count on him to be truthful. She is sure he’d tell her the truth even when she wouldn’t like it. Most people pander to her because of her wheelchair, fussing and fluffing around her like she’ll break, as if the truth would smash her to pieces.

So when Oliver accepted this pact, it was refreshing to have someone treat her like a normal person. Never shying away from the hardships of her condition and speaking up when he had something to say about them.

Digg’s right, she needs — she  _ owes  _ it to him — to be open and honest. Not only for herself and Oliver, but for their pact. If he can give her honesty, Felicity can give him some back.

Despite the nerves eating at her insides, Felicity takes a deep breath and squeezes Oliver's hand to muster all the courage she can find within herself to start.

Things need to be said. A conversation needs to be had.

"You have no idea how much that means to me, Oliver," Felicity says shakily, emotion floods her as she gives him a soft smile. All the courage she has embodied nearly dies as her breath becomes a  little shallow, her chest pounding — but she won't look away from his gaze, even if she wants to curl up and muffle the words out from her ball. This is important. He deserves to know with her eyes solely on his. "I feel the same, too. I feel the connection."

Relief hits her as the final word leaves her pink lips. It's finally out in the open. No more hiding behind unspoken words or meaningful looks. The hardest part is finally behind her, both of them have acknowledged this undeniable pull between them. The only way for them is forward. To talk it through.  _ Together. _

The blinding smile Oliver gives her causes Felicity to fall into him as she shyly buries herself into his shoulder when he wraps an arm around her and pulls her closer to him. She can feel his heartbeat race when she places a warm hand on his chest as he leisurely trails fingers up and down her bare arm.

“Yeah?” Oliver asks quietly and presses a kiss on the top of her head, sounding like she has given him the world.

“ _ Yeah, _ " she echoes in a whisper, nodding against his shoulder for a minute before sitting up with enough strength to make her break out of Oliver's hold. His hand hovers over her waist, and the heat is distracting as she gnaws her lip and looks up him sheepishly. "Oh, BTW, I spoke to Digg about us. So yeah, he knows."

Her eyes shine with mirth when she observes Oliver tense for a second and the tips of his ears reddened before he recovers, looking out to the waves before returning to her.

“I knew the internet wasn’t down as soon as I hopped on the computer,” Oliver claims, shaking his head with a knowing smile. Shifting so his muscly arms are behind him as he leans on his hands, his brows narrow slightly. “So, what did he have to say?”

"Well, he recommended I have an honest and open conversation with you," Felicity explains, the words from her therapist rolling around in her mind. She nods once with determination lighting up her crystal eyes. "And that's what I'm gonna do!"

Chuckling slightly, Oliver sits up and brushes his sandy palms together before resting his forearms on his bent knees. Pride and curiosity fill Oliver's features as he turns to Felicity, giving her a lopsided grin.

“Hit me with your best shot,” he teases.

Felicity wishes she can keep it light — laugh at the quip, or say something flirty back about him not being able to handle her genius thoughts — but she can’t. Her palms are clammy as she wipes them along her limp thighs, bringing her hands up to wring them together in her lap. Gnawing her lip hard until it hurts, she looks down to the sand as she tries to control her breathing before her anxiety sets in.

Maybe the hardest part isn't over. Because what she has to say is quite terrifying to speak out loud. It's her most inner fears and thoughts being released out in the open. For the man she wants to be with to hear. She's not entirely worried about Oliver's judgement or reaction. She knows there will be no harsh words or teasing from him. However, initially telling him is becoming a bigger fear than her relationship fears themselves. 

_ Ugh.  _ This sucks.

Oliver must feel the  trepidation radiating off her because he's suddenly leaning over and a callous palm settles over her heated cheek, smoothing it with a thumb as he raises her lowered head up. The adoration, belief and never-ending warmth in his eyes almost gives her the strength to open up, but his soft yet firm voice beats her to it, making her shiver as the words bleed out.

“Talk to me, Felicity,” he repeats pleadingly. “Don’t be afraid.”   


A humourless laugh floats between them as Felicity hears the last part. She’s more than afraid.  _ She’s fracking petrified.  _

“But I am,” she admits shakily, redirecting her gaze to where her hand tremble as she starts playing with the short v neck of Oliver’s white t-shirt. “I’m so scared, Oliver.”

It’s like her words slice through him as Oliver’s face drops, and a pained look etches across it.

“What are you scared of?” he asks, his voice is just above a whisper as he cups her other cheek and sliding his fingers through her ponytail, holding her head gently in his hands.

Sighing, Felicity flicks her gaze up to his. If she wants this to move forward, she needs to be brave and strong and honest. To trust Oliver to hear her as he has always done. Shutting her eyes, she takes a steadying breath before opening them to look directly into the eyes that always make her head spin.

“Of us.  _ This, _ ” she gestures back and forth between them, before placing a hand back on his chest. Her fingers trace patterns there, and she pauses a moment to feel the fast pace of his heart under her palm. When she continues, her tone is quiet but there’s a sad heaviness to it.  “What if we start this, and somewhere along the way you realise I’m not what you want and you leave? I’ve been through that, Oliver. And it hurts. I couldn’t bare to rehash that. Last time, it was shitty and painful, and I lost all my confidence in dating. But this time? With you? I wouldn’t survive the hit. I nearly friendzoned you this morning because of it.”

It's true. When Cooper left, she was devastated. Her young heart thought he was the love of her naive young life. His words and actions dug a knife in so hard; it killed any self-confidence she had with guys. But now, as she stares at the man in front of her — Felicity realises if she has to watch Oliver walk out the door and out of her life forever, it will hurt more than those boy's words from five years ago ever could.

It would make her crumble into dust.

Shaking his head frantically, Oliver looks so heartbroken and slightly offended at the notion that Felicity could think he would leave her as his brows knit together, eyes drowning in sadness.

"Baby, no," he vows, the shaky timbre in his tone is low and deep as he leans down to rest his forehead on hers. He's so close that Felicity can see all the different beautiful specks of blue in his irises and his warm breath tickles her soft lips as he speaks. "I wouldn't— I couldn't…"

He can’t even finish the sentence. Like he can’t physically put the idea of leaving her behind into the world. Like he knows the future and can’t fathom he’d walk out on her. And it makes Felicity love him all the more for it, she knows better.   


People can’t see into the future, but Felicity can guess it on past experiences.

"You can't say that," Felicity argues, pushing on his chest to launch herself upright. She winces at the hurt in Oliver's eyes as he drops his hands from her face and starts playing with the sand beside him. Exhaling out a long breath, she watches him as she prepares the right words to say as her mind calculates the perfect explanation. Her tone starts timid, but it grows into a strong yet kind manner. "Being with me is hard. It's not your typical relationship where it's all rainbows and fun times! There are things I can't give you, not well or not at all. There are other things I'll need more from you, things that regular partners don't have to give. Whether I like it or not, living in a wheelchair means life is a little different... and a whole lot more hectic."

Super proud of herself for making a mature and logical speech without any anxiety, Felicity is in the middle of an internal self-five when she catches Oliver freeze beside her. His lips draw into a thin line as a flash of anger passes through his eyes.

Maybe it's because he's remembering her similar words the night before or just remembering why she said those words in the first place, but as soon as he turns to look her in the eye, the anger dies.

He stares at her long and hard but the kindness of his eyes never fades as he searches for something in hers. Obviously, he finds what he's looking for as the corners of his lips slide up into a ghost of a smile. 

“I meant what I said last night,” he declares, using the voice he only reserves for  _ her _ — but this time it’s firmer like what he’s about to say next means everything to him. His gaze doesn’t ever waver from hers as Oliver takes a deep breath in and exhales shakily. “ _ You _ matter, Felicity. Not your chair or struggles you go through.  _ You. _ ”

_ Holy shit _ , okay. There’s no denying what he said is true now. This is twice Oliver has blatantly said she  _ matters... _

Felicity gulps, her heart is taking off like a race car as she itches her eyebrow in a nervous tick. It’s like her heart and head have drawn their swords for the final battle.

Her heart is chanting:  _ Burst the bubble. Burst the bubble. Burst the bubble.  _

While her head is softly reminding her:  _ He’ll leave. He’ll leave. He’ll leave. _

But as she absorbs the hopefulness mix with nervousness radiating off Oliver, she knows who has won the battle.

She is so tired of being scared. She is so tired of letting her fears rule her. She is so tired of being lonely.

Her strong heart wins victoriously.

The thought alone makes her choke, pausing as she looks down to her lap and back up with wide eyes.

What the  _ hell _ does she do now?

"I'm scared, too." Oliver blurts out, causing Felicity to whip her head around to him with her eyebrows so high in her hairline, it looks like she has none.

“Uh,  _ what? _ ” she squeaks questionly, watching him shrug like he’s a little embarrassed as he rakes his large fingers through the sand.

There's no way Oliver Queen is scared about entering into a relationship. Not with that gorgeous dimpled smile or that hard muscled god-like body of his.

Especially not with those heavenly blue eyes. They are to  _ die _ for. Trust her. They haunt her in her lusty dreams.

So, he would have no worries about getting a girlfriend. Unless he’s worried about bad sex?

Oh god, he’s worried about what’s going to happen between the sheets. 

"I'm terrified I'll push you away," Oliver admits, looking like he's about to pass out from nerves as he scoops up sand and lets it fall through his fingers. Swallowing hard, he takes a minute to steady himself as he sighs and looks straight into her curious eyes. "With my past and my history with women. With my forwardness with you. I know what I want in life, but this isn't about that.  _ This  _ is about whatever you want. You set the pace with this. We can go as slow as you want. I just want to be with you in any way I can. If that means being ‘just friends' with you, I'll do it."

Deep down, she knew Oliver had felt  _ something _ for her since the night of the dance at the gala. Back then it was easier to ignore the spark between then to save herself and her timid heart from breaking into a million pieces when it all went wrong. Or so she had assumed.

But now as she listens to his fears about driving her away because of his um,  _ active  _ past and the fact he  _ likes  _ her too much — and not about sex or her wheelchair being a burden or unsexy, Felicity can’t help but smile widely as the weight of everything lifts a little and sets her free.

She can’t ignore the spark anymore.

In fact, she wants to ignite it and turn it into an inferno.

“Oh  _ no _ !" Felicity soothes, cupping his jaw and scratching his scruff. "I would never use your past against you, Oliver. The boy from your past isn't the man you are today. That man is all types of wonderful. And as for your  _ forwardness _ , it might be scary for me but it’s also welcomed. Very, very welcomed.”

The smile Oliver gives her is too much as her triumphant heart faints of joy.

"And slow is nice," she adds coyly, looking up at him from under her lashes as he places his massive hand over her tiny one on his cheek and leans forward to put their foreheads together again.

“Slow it is then,” he agrees, nodding so that his noses strokes the length of hers before nuzzling it softly.

“So what do we do now?” she whispers, swiping her bottom lip in  anticipation  as their breaths mingle.

"How about we meet in the middle and start moving forward. Together," he suggests huskily, his voice is deep and rough. It makes her stomach scoop in desire and her whole body shiver. 

The movement causes Oliver to wrap a strong arm around her back. It reaches so that his palm rests on her opposite waist. She feels so tiny yet so protected and  _ oh so _ cherished. 

But all thoughts go flying out of her brain as his lips lightly touch hers, warm and loving. Felicity sighs happily as the pressure becomes more solid and incredible and mind-blowing. Oliver cups the nape of her neck, stroking the skin there.

This is it. She's kissing Oliver. Fully and without interruptions. No smirky-barging-in-through-closed-door-best-friends. No smug-sex-fact-giving-Nyssas. Nothing

Just her and Oliver. At the beach. Having their first kiss. A kiss to end all kisses. 

Well…

There is one thought she’s having. Nagging her. But it’s fine.

It's so cliche anyways. It only happens in her novels. She kinda hates it when it comes up because who made that a rule in Fictional Land?

It’s fine…

Except, maybe it’s a real thing?

“Wait,  _ wait! _ ” Felicity exclaims, breaking the kiss abruptly and sitting up in horror.

She would have laughed loudly at Oliver’s pitiful groan and the mumbled ‘ _ wait-no! _ ’ under his breath, if she wasn’t filing through QC’s employee manual in her head.

“What about work?  Is there a policy about this? It doesn’t look good for the company or me — not that anyone would believe I slept my way into this job — if we don’t do this probably. We have to go through the right channels and— “ Felicity prattles, thoughts tripping over themselves in her mind as she goes into ‘ _ let-me-date-my-boss-please’  _ fix-it mode.

‘Fe-li-ci-ty,” Oliver calls out softly, his tongue rolling over every syllable of her name. The sound makes her stop and look up, her insides melting at the tone. He grins like he’s amused at her thoughts, tucking a curl behind her ear as he speaks calmly. “We can keep it friendly and professional for now until we know we’re ready to go to HR. We are allowed to be together. There’s no ridiculous policy stopping us, but would you be more comfortable if you went to work for David full time?”

A second passes by as Felicity thanks the stars that her life isn’t about to become like one of her novels, where at some point work will tear them apart because it’s forbidden.

Ha, sucks to be a fictional EA! 

“Uh, probably. But I’d like to talk to him about it, okay?” she insists, thinking it’s for the best.

If she has to ask her other boss to transfer to his department full time because she’s  _ dating _ her first boss, she’d like to be the one who does it.   


_ Good lord _ , it’s  _ embarrassing  _ to even to think how that conversation would go between Oliver and David.

“Are there any other urgent matters we need to address before we continue?” Oliver asks teasingly, cocking an eyebrow and leaving goosebumps in its wake as he trails a fingertip down her bare arm. 

"Umm…" Felicity ponders as she taps a magenta finger against her chin, pretending to stew over her answer. "No."

She doesn't give him time to respond, leaning forward to crash her lips onto his and cup the back of his head, fingers carding through his thick hair. She smiles into the kiss when Oliver takes a second to respond. But when he does…

Oh  _ god _ , it’s perfect. It’s real. It’s everything she has dreamed of.

Suddenly, he's cupping her face and tilting it up so his soft lips encase her bottom lip. Butterflies erupt wildly in her stomach, almost like they’re trying to push her forward as Felicity leans into him pressing their lips together further. It's so pure and delicate that she wants to weep at the perfection of it. 

Her breath hitches and her blue eyes are dazed with wonder as Oliver leans back slightly, breaking the kiss. For a moment, he just stares at her adoringly with a small grin. His eyes dart around her face, watching the awe slowly sink in as Felicity smiles back with delight. Trailing both sides of her jaw with the back of his knuckles, Oliver’s lips come back down to meet hers in a soft caress as his hand slides to her cheek, thumb brushing her skin. Her heart stops as  his wet tongue traces the fullness of her bottom lip, seeking permission to deepen the kiss. She happily grants him access and when he slips his tongue against hers slowly, he groans. The sound vibrates through his chest onto hers making her whimper. She can't get enough of this. The feel of him exploring her mouth slowly is intoxicating and the way she can savour his taste is beyond words.

“I’m so happy I didn’t friendzone you.” Felicity giggles as the need for air sadly breaks them apart.   


“Me too.” Oliver agrees breathlessly, smoothing back her hair before leaning in for another kiss.

This time it’s needy and intense and wonderful. She never wants to stop kissing him.  _ Ever. _

When they come up for air again he asks, "Felicity, would you like to have dinner with me?" , his voice hoarse and low from the kiss.

The sound rumbles through her, hitting her straight in the heart with lust that she immediately goes back for more. She leans in but just before their lips touch, she breathes,“Yes.” 

As she kisses the man who holds her heart with the sun high in the sky and the waves meet the sand in a friendly embrace, Felicity cannot get any happier than she is now.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews and kudos make my world go round, lovely people!
> 
> Come and say hi to me!
> 
> Tumblr: beinmyheart  
> Twitter: beinmyheart8


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